


Family Seasons

by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Daddy!Derek, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 68,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookslikenico/pseuds/lookslikenico, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winglesswarrior/pseuds/winglesswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't really want a family, but when he's left with three kids he doesn't have a lot of options otherwise. </p><p>Of course, there's always Stiles...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring

He really didn’t hate them. In no way did he like kids, but he didn’t hate his. Mostly his. Whatever the hell they were, two of them were jumping up and down on the bed, shouting his name and the third was crying from the pack’n’play that doubled as a crib in the corner and they were making him reconsider the hating them thing. 

“Derek, Derek, Derek.” It was whispered now, right next to his ear where Maribelle had dropped her knees, trying to wake him up. He groaned, rolling over and catching Marcus with one hand to knock him back down onto the bed with him and Maribelle. 

“What do you want?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Maribelle snuggled up against his chest and looked at him. “Evan’s crying. And we’re hungry.” 

“You’re always hungry,” Derek gruffed. 

“Because we’re growing pups!” Marcus was climbing on him too now, causing Derek to grunt as his breath puffed out of him. 

“I can’t feed you if you’re laying on me,” he reminded them, which thankfully worked in getting them off of him and rolling towards the stairs. Derek rubbed his face and dragged himself out of bed. He scooped Evan up, taking a moment to change his diaper (god he changed diapers now) before he headed downstairs. The kids were already at work, pulling out boxes of cereals, setting them on the counter and bowls. Derek managed to snatch the milk out of Marcus’ hands before it wound up on the floor and set it on the counter and Evan in his highchair. 

He wasn’t good at this parenting thing, but at least he had a handle on breakfast. After breakfast was school and then a few hours to get everything settled, just him and Evan. Only the worst part was the rush right before school. Once breakfast was finished, they were off in a flurry of arms and legs and before Derek knew it he was trying to get them out the door. His hands were full of Maribelle’s hair to put it back in pigtails, but it still wasn’t right and she was yelling about it, diaper bag swinging off his shoulder and hitting her which just made her yell more. Marcus was shouting himself, yelling something about a missing shoe and just as Derek got Maribelle right she was screaming about ballet shoes and needing her things which were completely not packed. Somewhere in there Evan had started crying and it was a small miracle that Derek heard the chuckle at all. His eyes darted up, seeing nothing but long and lanky laughing, decked in a red hoodie. 

“Now you laugh at me.” Derek narrowed his eyes, but the look softened as the younger man moved forward, grabbing the diaper bag off Derek’s shoulder and heading for Marcus who was bouncing at the idea of hanging out with ‘Mr. Stiles’. Mr. Stiles was prattling on about shoes and elves and something else before finding Marcus’ shoe under the couch and helping him get it on his foot. Derek let out a relieved sigh and focused on Maribelle’s hair, fixing it for the fourth time, but at least this time it was right. It earned him a kiss on his cheek and a rare ‘thanks Dad’ which was ironic considering a few minutes before she’d been calling him an idiot for messing it up. And then she was babbling about ballet and just as Derek was about to panic because nothing was ready for that, Stiles was there again. Only this time he was holding Evan and handing the diaper bag back. “Ballet’s after school. You can get her things for her and have them ready at pick up when she gets done.” 

Derek stared at the other man, surprised that he was bright eyed and bushy tailed this early, that he was here, just in time to get them out the door for school on time and not at all phased by the nine year old tugging on his sweatshirt. “There’s coffee for you, on the counter,” Stiles said, nodding towards the to-go cup from his favorite coffee shop waiting on Derek before heading out the door with Evan in his arms and Marcus trailing behind him. It took Derek until Maribelle tugged on his shirt to move, grabbing the cup and following after Stiles, locking up the loft as he left.

\----- 

Not two hours later Stiles and Derek were at the grocery store, Stiles pushing the cart and entertaining Evan in the child seat, who was cooing and giggling. Derek was putting things in the cart, trying not to get annoyed when Stiles either switched them out for something else or made a disapproving noise. 

“You can’t buy them that cereal.” 

“It’s their favorite kind!“ 

“Yes, but it’s awful for them! Here, get this one. Nutrition Derek. They’re still growing pups.” 

“So that’s where they picked that one up from.” 

In any other place, anyone would have assumed they were some sort of couple with their adopted son who looked a stupidly awful lot like Derek and a relationship that was comfortable with little squabbles over cereal. Anywhere else, that would be the assumption. Only here, it wasn’t the case. Beacon Hills was small and everyone knew who they were. Derek Hale and the Sheriff’s kid, who wasn’t so much a kid anymore. Everyone knew their stories. Or Derek’s story at least. 

Jennifer had rolled into town with the kids in tow, someone Derek hadn’t seen in months. But once Evan was in his arms, he’d realized why that was the case. Definitely without a doubt his. The tufts of black hair and jaw that stuck out even in an infant? He didn’t need a test. He could tell. The others, he hadn’t even known they existed. Marcus and Maribelle were from another relationship, something Jennifer had kept a secret, despite the fact that they’d dated for a couple of weeks. 

He wasn’t sure what to do, faced with a child that was his that he hadn’t known about and an ex who seriously needed some help. Just a little at least. So he’d let them in, got everyone set up in the loft. It was just a couple of nights until they figured out what to do about his kid, until Derek could get child support or whatever sorted out. Only Jennifer left before they could get it sorted. Just gone. 

Derek watched Stiles play peek-a-boo with Evan, amazed that he was still functioning when Derek was almost certain that Stiles had worked the night before. “You make it look easy,” he blurted. 

Stiles glanced up at him confused. “Peek-a-boo? What part are you struggling with? The peek or the boo?” He grinned a little, just to show he was teasing and Derek rolled his eyes, instantly wishing he hadn’t given the compliment. 

“Forget it.” 

\-----

Derek wasn’t sure what to make of the lunch boxes sitting on the counter when he got up a few mornings later. There was a note with them, written out in a way that made it seem like whoever wrote it was trying to make it as neat as possible instead of just a scribble, with instructions. There were things in the fridge to go in lunch boxes, which were already half packed. 

Less than a week later he got home from work, ready to turn around and pick up the kids and half the loft had been rearranged. ‘Child-proofed’, apparently. After that it was the cabinets and suddenly Derek couldn’t find anything useful without calling Stiles for help. It was finding him in the kitchen at 3am though that Derek really just wasn’t sure how to handle. He was up because Evan had woken. Hearing a sound, he had headed toward it and found his kitchen occupied. “What are you doing here?” 

Stiles spun around like he’d been caught, lunch things in his hands and a sheepish look on his face. Derek realized he should be upset or more confused, but all he could really think about is if he’d given Stiles a key. He honestly couldn't remember. 

“How many times to I have to tell you, big guy - proper nutrition is vital.”

“It's three am, Stiles,” Derek deadpanned, glaring at the other man with a look that would have been far more effective if he hadn't been resting a sleeping baby on his shoulder.

“I know, right!“ Stiles declared, throwing his hands up in despair. “But I was reading this post on mumsnet about...”

“It's _three am_ Stiles,” Derek repeated, interrupting Stiles' explanation with a low hiss, desperate not to wake the baby. It had been hell getting him to sleep last night. Derek thinks he's teething.

“Would you prefer it I just left you to it, hmm?” Stiles hissed right back. “Face it, we with know what you're like in the mornings. You can barely look after yourself, nevermind three kids. Anyone else would be grateful, but oh no, not you! You'd rather fail spectacularly than actually say 'thank you'!“

Derek just glared at him, trying to deny to himself that maybe - just maybe - the guy had a point. No way he was letting Stiles know that though, he hold it over him for the rest of time. “I don't remember giving you a key,” he said, flatly, once enough prime glaring time had past. Glaring time which, annoyingly, seemed to entirely pass Stiles by. Apparently, he was immune to the glare.

“Oh, you didn't. Cora stole yours and made me a copy.” Derek practically growled at the nonchalant tone of Stiles' voice and the way the guy just went right back to making fucking sandwiches, like the fact that he'd broken into Derek's house, loft, _chosen place of residence_ was no big deal. He doesn't even have a real response to that, plus he knows what'll happen if he corners Cora about it. She'll just roll her eyes and tell he's being an idiot.

So, instead, he just continued to glare at the top of Stiles' head until the other man had laid out two perfect packed lunches. Stiles stood back with a 'tada' gesture. Derek meet his eyes, looking unimpressed and then just turned and walked off. Take that, Stilinski, he thought, smugly. He actually broke out into a grin seen by nobody but a half sleeping baby when Stiles dropped his hands to his sides audibly and cried out, “Aww, come on! These are a work of freaking art! I know that Marcus has this class project on South America right now, so he has tortillas with mixed bean salad! And Maribelle decided yesterday that she doesn’t like sandwich bread, so she has a tuna pasta salad with carrot sticks and they both have one of these kick ass cranberry cookies I made this afternoon and an apple - because every kid should have an apple!“

He wouldn't admit it, but Derek was impressed - and glad that he was facing away from Stiles, who would be able to read it all over his face otherwise. He didn't know how Stiles did it - manage to know so much about _his_ kids. Their likes and dislikes, what they’re doing at school, the lot - and still have time to bake cookies and plan the perfect lunch. Then break into the loft to put the damn things together at 3am. And it didn’t seem to bother Stiles _at all_ that they’re having this conversation in the middle of the night and Derek’s barely dressed in sweatpants and Evan’s finally calmed down and started to drool on his shoulder. It took a moment for him to really get his emotions and feelings under control before he turned, raising an eyebrow to look at Stiles, then the lunches, then back at Stiles. “You need to sleep. So do I. I’m going to bed.” 

\-----

Stiles was still there when Derek was bodily pulled out of his bed the next morning by Marcus and Maribelle. Derek felt like shit and he needed at least another three hours sleep, probably more to catch up on the fact that he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep, or a lay in, in months. No such luck though, because he has a little hand in each of his and who knew that kids a fraction of his size could be that _strong_. So, he leaned down and pulled and their rabbiting on ten to the dozen about it being so cool and isn’t it exciting and Derek wasn’t even awake enough to comprehend what on earth they’re talking about until they’re in the kitchen and there’s Stiles. At the stove. Making pancakes.

… With blueberries.

In this apron that Peter had bought him for a joke last Christmas, that says ‘kiss the chef’ on it, with a big pair of red lips somewhere that Derek is fairly certain isn’t suitable for children, only none of them seemed to have noticed. Including, it seemed, Stiles.

Derek blinked again, not sure what he was seeing, but the kids are babbling, jumping into chairs as instructed by the chef who has just started plating pancakes and setting them in front of him. Even Evan’s up already, sitting in his highchair and giggling, which meant Stiles likely climbed up into his room and got the infant from his crib without Derek even realizing it. Somewhere in there Stiles noticed him, handing him a cup of coffee with a goofy grin, like this was one hundred percent normal. “I’m not kissing you,” Derek grumbled, not sure what else to say since ‘why the hell are you still here?’ sounded mean when he’d just been handed coffee that he desperately needed and ‘are you moving in?’ sounded too much like an invitation. 

Stiles went a little pink, like the comment it out of nowhere and it’s not until Derek pointed to the apron that he got it - his mouth going into an ‘oh’ shape, his eyes widening and he laughed. Derek could see the moment that Stiles finally realized what he was wearing as the other man tried to get out of the apron as quickly as possible, tossing it aside in a heap and handing Derek a plate of food without looking him in the eye. Derek considered it a small victory. 

“Why do you even have that thing with kids in the house anyway?” Stiles asked, before stuffing his mouth as full of pancakes as he can. Which, of course, has Marcus laughing with glee and trying desperately to mimic Stiles. Derek sighed. Marcus always tried to mimic everything Stiles does. That kid had the biggest case of hero worship going. For _Stiles_.

“Marcus - eat properly,” Derek admonished, trying to sound like a responsible father, but on so little sleep and with as little coffee in his system as he had, it just came out grumpy. He glanced at Stiles. “Peter. The other bad influence in their lives.” Not that Stiles was a bad influence, not really. Not when they’re not round the breakfast table. Not when he’s helping Maribelle with her spellings and Marcus with his science project. Not then at all.

“Figures,” Stiles said, though this time his mouth wasn’t full. Derek watched as Marcus stopped stuffing his face. Now his mouth was closed as he chewed slowly. Derek wondered, as always, if it had something to do with his instructions or Stiles’ example. Probably the second instead of the first as it should be. 

“I’ll get you a normal one,” Derek offered, not even realizing he’d said it before the words were out there, making offers that he’d probably want to follow through with, even if it just made everything more awkward. If that was what this was - awkward. Derek wasn’t really sure. 

Stiles shrugged a shoulder, making sure to carefully cut up both his pancakes and eat like a regular person. Huh, so apparently someone had actually listened to Derek, even if it wasn’t his son. That made his even more unsure whether this was awkward or not. He decided it probably wasn’t for Stiles the moment that the other man said, “Sure,” swallowing before he answered and then deftly pouring Marcus a glass of orange juice with one hand, whilst he rescued Evan from the piece of blueberry pancake that Maribelle was trying to feed her baby brother with the other. “Pancakes aren’t for babies, Mari - only big kids get the good stuff. Eat your breakfast,” Stiles admonished, lightly. Of course, she did just what he said with barely a pout. Seriously, Derek was starting to think that Stiles was some kind of a magician.

Derek focused on what he could do, eating his own food and making sure Evan was fed as well until breakfast was finished and the rush to get ready started up again, like tasmanian devils, whirring through the loft, grabbing things, getting clothes, fighting over what they were wearing and whose stuff was whose. It was a blessing that it was a boy and a girl and their stuff was different. A pink bag and a blue one, different style sneakers, all of that. Derek disappeared for a few moments to pull on real clothes, forgoing a morning shower and shave, but he stopped short when he spotted Marcus and Maribelle, dressed and ready to go with a smiling Stiles behind them. Magician for sure. The younger man even handed him the stocked diaper bag for Evan and Derek wasn’t at all sure what he’s supposed to do with Stiles. “Thanks?” 

Stiles threw back his head and laughed, exposing a long expanse of pale, mole-freckled neck and sounding as carefree as ever. “Finally!” he exclaimed, looking back at Derek, his honey-brown eyes practically glowing. “That costed you, didn’t it? A ‘thanks’. Was it really that painful?” Stiles asked him, smirking and making Derek wish he’d just stayed silent.

“Come on kids,” Derek said, gesturing to Marcus and Maribelle. “Let’s get you to school.” Grabbing his keys off the side, he herded the two eldest children toward the door, with only the minimum of complaint - all focused around the fact that ‘couldn’t Mr. Stiles come too???’

It was kind of annoying, though not because the kids were annoying, but more because he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with Stiles just so _there_. He was there enough. More than enough. 

The kids were dropped off at school, all in one piece and with everything they needed. Derek was still parked outside the school, having watched them walk in the door and when he got a friendly reminder text from Stiles for Parent-and-Me class with Evan. Oh and everything Evan might need was already in the bag. Derek made a frustrated noise, but he knew that Stiles would be checking on his attendance and disappointing him sounded worse than sitting in a class full of obnoxious women constantly bragging about how great their kids were. Women also still almost always called it Mommy-and-Me class, which Derek hated almost as much. They’d made a point of changing the name when he’d joined, because now they had a _guy_. He really didn’t need them knowing about the Stiles waiting on him at home because that would just start the gushing up again, about him being such a cute _daddy_. They always drew the word out, making it sound sing-songy. 

Thankfully class passed quickly though, not as many group activities as much as it was playing with Evan, watching him grab and try and chew on anything he could get his hands on. Derek didn’t like kids, not at all, but he did like this one, talking to him like he was a little person rather than an infant. While he didn’t answer much more than hand Derek a drool covered block, it gave Derek someone to complain about blueberry pancakes to and wonder if Stiles would look better in - no, prefer - a blue apron or a green one. The conversation continued after the class, while they wandered through the store, trying to find the right apron, Derek rolling the stroller back and forth with one foot, holding them up for Evan to pick. And it was Evan’s fault he wound up with a hunter green apron, bringing it home to hang on the hook where the other had been. 

The soft snoring on the couch had Derek abandoning the apron and heading that way, both surprised and not surprised to see Stiles, out completely cold, one arm flung over his eyes. Derek chuckled softly almost silently, then reached for the blanket to drape it over Stiles. “What do you say we go to the park, little man?” Derek asked Evan who was still in his stroller, waving his hands to be picked up and carried again. “Let the big goofball sleep this one off and see if he still wants to get up in the middle of the night again to make lunches?”

\-----

It made him feel really needy, but Derek didn’t like leaving the kids at day care. It was a really nice day care, one he knew he couldn’t really afford, but Stiles had pulled a few strings with Melissa McCall who’d spent twenty minutes trying to tell him about it while gushing over how cute Evan was. Derek wasn’t entirely sure what Stiles had said to her, but suddenly the fees weren’t quite as horrendous as they’d first seemed and Derek was setting up a payment plan.

So Monday morning, eight am, he’d dropped them off. School was out for the summer and Derek checking his phone every five minutes for updates from the daycare, which he was getting every hour. Evan ate, Marcus played some games, Maribelle was showing off ballet steps. It made work easier yes, but it was still nerve wracking. 

When the door to the loft was thrust open just as Derek was about to get up to make lunch, he wasn’t proud to admit that he actually jumped a little. He must have been seriously in the zone to not hear anyone coming. Yet, he looked up to see Stiles, striding across the floor toward him. Instinctively, Derek got up off the couch to meet him. He hated staring up at people.

“You didn’t have to get up,” Stiles insisted, climbing over the back of the couch to sit again, pulling out his computer and a stack of papers he’d printed out. Derek wasn’t at all sure why he was still there, why he’d show up when the kids weren’t here, but there he was handing the papers to Derek and launching into a monologue about how the loft wasn’t the right space to raise a family in. That was what it took for Derek to look at what he’d been handed, print outs of possible houses for sale around the area, their perks highlighted in green with little notes like ‘close to school’ or ‘near the grocery store’ written on them. 

“What are you talking about?” Derek finally blurted, staring at Stiles like he was insane. Stiles seemed to miss the look though, turning his head, smile firmly in place. 

“A house. You need to buy a house. This place really isn’t kid friendly, plus M and M aren’t going to want to share a room for too much longer. Plus they shouldn’t. Like, I know their mom left and that was why they like being close, but yeah, according to every psychology website out there, they shouldn’t.” 

“I like the loft,” Derek said, still leaving through the papers. Stiles had even used different colored highlighters, he realized. Negative points in pink, pack locations added in yellow on the little maps that were attached to each. He looked over at Stiles and realised that the other man’s grin had turned into a rather more sympathetic smile.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Stiles asked, with a tiny sigh. “She’s never coming back. You can’t… just keep doing this. This… temporary shit. Making do. Getting along in the short term. These are _your_ kids now. They need a _home_. Not some open plan space with bare walls and a spiral staircase that I’ve had to bodily prevent Marcus from killing himself trying to slid down twice in the past couple of days alone.”

“They’re not,” Derek started, but bit his tongue before he got too far. They weren’t really his kids, but most days, most days they were. And Evan definitely was. “She might come back. She has to...she can’t not want them can she?” He wasn’t talking to Stiles, he was talking to himself and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he was reaching for his phone, wanting an update on where the kids were. Why had he let Stiles talk him into daycare? 

Stiles, for once in his life, was a quiet. He just sat there, staring at Derek as if Derek had something else he had to say. Derek ignored the look, going back to the papers in front of them, picking out a few then setting aside the others. “These don’t have enough space,” he said. There needed to be an extra room. 

Stiles shrugged and stood. “I just got you a selection. Up to you to choose something. Maybe take the pups round a couple if you can stand it,” he suggested, then winced. “Or maybe not. M and M will probably pick different favorites just to spite each other. Just… pick one, okay?” he suggested, heading for the door.

\-----

It was evening. Bathtime had been a nightmare. Derek swore that he’d gotten more wet than all of the kids put together as he fought to do three rounds of bathing. He’d stopped even questioning the fact that Stiles had been tucked up in the space between Marcus and Maribelle’s beds when he’d emerged from putting Evan to bed in his crib, then gotten changed into a pair of sweats and a soft grey t-shirt. Derek had leaned against the doorframe, silently watching as Stiles read the two older kids a bedtime story, complete with all the voices, that left them in fits of giggles that somehow, Derek knew, would end in them going to sleep faster rather than being stupidly hyperactive - which is what happened whenever Derek tried something like that.

By the time Stiles had finished the short book, Derek was feeling calm and relaxed. He had a weird sense of peace with the world, that he couldn’t quite place. It felt like, finally, things were on the right track. It also felt like maybe he needed to actually talk to Stiles about the idea he had.

He was still contemplating that as Stiles walked passed him, gesturing with his head toward the living area as the kids snoozed behind them. Derek cast one last glance over their sleeping forms, highlighted in the orangey glow of their nightlight. Marcus sprawled out on his back, using up all the available space. Maribelle curled up around her favored cuddly toy of the month. Derek let out a small sigh and then followed Stiles back into the living area. Yeah, they really needed to talk.

Only, when he got there, Stiles wasn’t alone. Scott was there, dressed up as though he was headed out somewhere and looking at Stiles as though he were insane. 

“One night, dude. Seriously!” Scott exclaimed, gesturing toward the window.

“One night what?” Derek asked, eyes on Stiles not Scott. Stiles was the one who looked uncomfortable. 

“Tonight?” Stiles asked, sounding as pained as he looked. “The kids just went to bed and it was an early morning.” 

“You’re joking right?” Scott asked. “What the hell? You don’t even live here!” Derek wanted to correct that, that Stiles had all but started sleeping over most nights, but he figured that wouldn’t actually help any so he kept it to himself. 

“You can’t even give a guy a warning?” Stiles asked. 

“You don’t need a warning. This isn’t your job. It’s not like you have to ask the night off right? I mean Derek’s not started paying you or anything has he?” 

“Pay me? What no.” Stiles sounded insulted. “I’m not a nanny.” 

“You aren’t?” Scott sounded surprised. “Because it feels like it. I’m pretty sure you are.” 

“Shut up Scott, I’ll come with you.” Stiles was already moving towards his stash of clothes to get something to wear out. 

“No really, I’m curious, how are you not the nanny? When did you last pick up the kids from school.” Derek felt himself bristle as Scott spoke. He didn’t like that, the way that Scott was accusing Stiles of things, things that made both of them uncomfortable. 

“Wednesday. Maribelle has dance after school and wants Derek to be there with the other moms.” Derek made a noise, hating that joke or comment whatever it was. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. And it was accurate. He was the only dad there most of the time. “So I get Marcus and we do the park or play here or…” Stiles trailed off as Scott just gave him that _look_. “Shut. Up. I’m coming. Come on.” Stiles made it two steps towards the door, different shirt that was nicer than the one he usually wore, before he turned back and looked at Derek pleadingly. “I can call my dad. He can come by. You know he loves being around them,” he said, but Derek shook his head. 

“Go. Have fun. They’re already asleep.” It wasn’t like he’d been invited anyway. Stiles looked pained again, but Scott made a noise and pulled on his arm, dragging him towards the door. 

\-----

“I am so not the nanny!” Stiles declared, throwing back the last of his drink as Scott looked on, amused. If anything, his friend got even more loose-limbed when he’d been drinking, which was really saying something.

The bar they’d ended up in was moderately busy, but not too loud. They’d managed to score themselves a booth toward the back, and Scott had been working on getting Stiles well and truly drunk. The guy seriously needed it. Needed to let go, shake off some of that pressure and finally let loose from… whatever it was and the self-imposed role he’d taken on that nobody in their circle cared to define. 

People might laugh at the title, but at least he was stepping up to the plate. He was staging a brovention. Rescuing Stiles from the depths of… well, in this case, himself.

“Sure, dude - you’re not the nanny,” he agreed as Stiles gestured to the waitress that they’d have another round, even though alcohol was pretty much a waste of time for Scott. He smirked, and added, “I mean, nannies get paid, right? You’re not the nanny, you more like-”

“Okay! No comparing the Stiles to anything!” Stiles said, leaping to prevent Scott from ever finishing that sentence, which just made Scott laugh. He wondered what Stiles was actually scared of. It’d definitely be interesting to know just where his friend’s mind had gone on that one.

“So you’re not that. Got it.” Scott was still smirking like he was right. “Which means you’re seeing who now?” Now he was teasing really, pushing a little harder than he needed to, but part of him wanted Stiles to see it, to see what he was doing and where he was. How he wasn’t just helping out. It was something more than that. 

“Seeing? What?” Stiles made a disinterested noise. “Not all of us are _you_ who can get hot chicks everywhere.” Or chicks at all. Stiles really didn’t have any luck. He also knew why Scott was asking and the answer he was sure Scott wanted to hear was on the tip of his tongue. He was too busy. With the kids. With Derek. Instead of saying anything else he lunged at the drink when the next round came and he focused on chugging it instead. 

“Oh you’re seeing someone,” Scott said, shaking his head. Someone that wasn’t seeing him, just using him for nannying purposes. “I’m going to get you a ‘I’m the manny’ t-shirt.” 

“Shit, Scott, let it go!” Stiles exclaimed, his eyes narrowing even through the blush as he abruptly sat up straight. “He was dying out there! And those kids were suffering for it. They’d already been abandoned by their mother, and landed with _Derek_ as a father. You’ve seen what he’s like when he tries to organize anything! And he’s too damn stubborn to ask for help, like _ever_.”

“And that’s what child services are for,” Scott said trying to sound reasonable, but clearly falling short if the way that Stiles’ blush turned into the redness of anger was any indication.

“Fuck. You. No way. No kid of mi… No kid is going to be taken by child services when all that’s needed is a bit of help here and there.”

Scott raised a brow at the slip, and tilted his head to the side, watching Stiles assessingly for a long minute. Then he dropped the subject. Looking out over the bar, he spotted his target. “You know what you need,” he said, glancing over at Stiles and then gesturing with a finger toward a girl standing at the bar. “You need to get laid.”

“I need to what?” Stiles was still glaring at that that look wondering what Scott was thinking, what he was implying and the change of conversation had him glancing in the direction that Scott pointed. He tilted his head and looked at her, catching the way she was looking at them. Probably Scott, but their direction. “I’m not interested,” he said plainly. 

That got Scott’s attention again, frowning as he saw it. “Not at all? She’s super cute. And probably interested.” 

“Yeah well I’m not. I thought we were hanging as bros. What do girls have to to do with any of that?” Stiles looked at his drink, trying not to look at the girl. Where was he going to take her anyway? Derek’s? His dad’s place? Right, try again. 

“Given that I know how long it’s been since you got some, I’m fine with you blowing me off. Just this once, hoes before bros.” Scott was just looking out for his friend. Even if he needed to be wingman for it. 

“Let it go Scott. Not interested.” 

“What?” Scott asked, because he couldn’t help himself. “You afraid she won’t call when she finds out you have kids?” 

He realized he’d gone too far as Stiles practically catapulted up out of his seat, grabbing his jacket. Scott watched, stunned, as his friend rounded on him. “I don’t have kids. Derek has kids. I’m just the nanny, _remember_ ,” Stiles shot, before executing an Oscar-worthy stalk out that made Scott wonder if his best friend had been talking tips off Lydia again.

Belatedly, Scott grabbed his own jacket, threw enough money on the table to cover the drinks and a tip, and headed out after his friend.

He found Stiles sitting on the curb outside, his head in his hands. Sitting down next to him, Scott threw an arm loosely over Stiles’ shoulders. “Okay, dude. Tell me - what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, his head still in his hands. “Nothing’s going on.” That was the problem wasn’t it? He was there, again and again and he barely got thank yous. Nothing outright at least. The new apron in the perfect color. An offhand touch on his back. Nights where they were alone and Derek let him pick what show they watched. That was _it_. 

“You’re full of shit,” Scott said, but he didn’t push, not right away. Something was bothering Stiles and he wanted to know, but he also knew he’d pissed him off enough already. 

“I know I am. But it’s not important.” Stiles shrugged off the arm on his shoulder as he got up, swaying a little. “Give me a ride home?” 

Scott looked up at Stiles, one eyebrow raised, pretty sure his eyes were going to stay that way the longer they talked about this. Or didn’t talk about it. “Which home?” It earned him a glare, but it at least Stiles answered the question. 

“Derek’s.” Stiles’ winced as he said it but he knew that was where he wanted to go. Not his dad’s. He would be hung over in the morning but he wanted to sleep on Derek’s couch, be near them when he woke up. He wanted to see them. That was what he needed. 

Scott let out a loud sigh, but he still led Stiles back towards the car and dropped him back off at the loft. It was quiet when Stiles let himself in, Derek had already gone to bed. Stiles hated it until he found the note on the coffee table, stuck to the front of a house listing. 

_This one. There’s room for you to move in too._


	2. Summer

“When I told you it was time to move out this wasn’t what I was thinking.” The Sheriff glanced at his son. The truck they’d borrowed was full of Stiles’ things, which had seemed like a good idea right until the room was mostly empty and the Sheriff wasn’t as sure. The house was going to be empty. Much unlike the one they were no standing before. A beautiful two story house, set back from the road. A porch wrapped round it - there was even a bench swing by the front door. To the side and back was a large yard, and the sounds of kids exploring could already be heard as they ran from place to place in their new home.. 

“Where else was I going to go?” Stiles asked and his father knew he was telling the truth. Even if Stiles had moved out on his own, he’d be here all the time anyway. Just like he’d been at the loft day in and day out for months. 

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles!” Marcus was running, voice in rapid fire, but he stopped short and started over again when he saw Stiles’ father. “Pops! Pops!” he exclaimed, already climbing the older man, trying to get into his arms despite being too big for it. 

“Hey kiddo,” the Sheriff greeted, only looking up as Derek came following after Marcus, trying to keep him from running away. The Sheriff didn’t look at Derek though, he looked at Stiles. Stiles, whose breath caught in his throat at the sight of Derek, but the moment was gone the instant Derek was closer, reaching to claim Marcus back and letting the men get back to emptying the truck. 

It was on purpose, the way the Sheriff made sure to put the boxes of Stiles’ things in Derek’s room, even if Stiles kept grumbling about him becoming senile. It was his own way of saying he was okay with it. That he wanted this for his son. Whatever made Stiles happy, whoever made Stiles happy, that was enough. And Stiles looked happy, crowded around a kitchen table with three kids, Derek, their friends, and his father, surrounded by boxes and eating pizza on paper plates because they hadn’t unpacked the real plates yet. Even Derek looked happy. Why couldn’t they do something with that?

\-----

Derek pushed the door shut a few hours later. The kids were crashed out on the new couch, and Stiles was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. Heading that way, Derek found himself leaning against the doorframe as he watched the other man. They hadn’t really talked about it - any of this. Stiles got his note, Derek had gone through the work of signing the papers and now here they were. Whatever ‘here’ was. Derek wasn’t really sure. Maybe it didn’t have to be anything. Maybe it could just be what it was, what it always was. Only more permanent. 

When Stiles finally looked up, he jumped, gasping a little and flailing - all but pressing a hand to his chest. “You can’t lurk in the new house yet. Not until we’re used to it,” Stiles lectured. “The last thing I need is you sneaking up on me when I’m holding a sharp object or something hot.” He shook his head in a way that made Derek smirk just slightly. 

“Fine, no lurking. There are still boxes of your stuff in my room,” he said instead of saying what he wanted to say, which was something like ‘thank you’ or ‘don’t ever leave because I don’t know how to do this without you’ didn’t seem right. That was needy and sounded like something he’d tell a girlfriend, or a wife. Not Stiles. Stiles was something else. 

“I know there are. My dad is losing his mind isn’t he?” Stiles shook his head and dried his hands off on his jeans. “Sorry about that. It’s like he’s trying to say something without saying it. Or whatever. He’s strange.” Stiles was babbling, but Derek didn’t call him out on it, he just nodded. 

“He’s a good man,” Derek added once Stiles was done. “And we owe him for pizza and helping.” He smiled, just for a moment, something bright and just for Stiles before moving closer and squeezing the other man’s shoulder as he passed by, opening the fridge to get a drink. 

“Yeah we do. And he is. And…” Stiles started to say something but frowned, trailed off and moved to busy himself with the pizza boxes and leftovers. 

“And…” Derek stopped the water bottle at his lips, waiting for Stiles to go on, watching the younger man squirm for a moment. 

Stiles bounced on his toes for a moment, shaking his head. “We should get the kids to bed.” That was so much easier than saying what was on his mind. How this was how it was going to be between them. Always. Or the foreseeable future. Once the kids were asleep, they’d be basically alone in the house. What were they going to do? Just stand here awkwardly looking at each other? 

Derek finished taking his drink and nodding. “We should. You get Evan and I’ll grab the other two?” he suggested, moving towards the living room where the little ones were curled up. Maribelle was curled up against Marcus, blonde hair mixing with his light brown. They were definitely not his kids. It was obvious, just looking at them. Lifting them was easy, one in each arm. He watched Stiles pick up Evan and hating the feeling in his chest at the sight. Like something was swelling. Evan looked right in Stiles’ arms. Like he belonged there. It was a stupid thought, which was quickly pushed away.

Stiles looked over and smiled a little, leaving Derek wondering if he’d been caught staring. If he had been, Stiles made no mention of it as he said, “There’s a case on the end of their beds - I packed their overnight things and clothes for tomorrow separately. In case we didn’t get all the unpacking done.” Which they hadn’t. Not by a long way. “Charlotte Bear is in Mari’s case as well.” Stiles glanced down at the sleeping girl. “Though I don’t think she’ll need it tonight, at least maybe we won’t get woken up at the asscrack of dawn when she can’t find it.”

"Bear and clothes. Got it," Derek smiled at Stiles again, glad he was so prepared to think though making sure they had stuff at the ready. If he'd been alone, Derek would have been digging through boxes. Stiles returned his smile and headed up the stairs to the new nursery.

\-----

“ _There’s a monster under my beddddddddd!!!!!!_ ”

Maribelle’s scream was so loud and piercing that Derek swore he was up and half way across the room before his brain had actually registered that he was awake. He threw open his bedroom door - at exactly the same time as Stiles did from his own room across the hall.

Derek froze, staring down the other man. Each clutched at the door, poised to spring to the rescue, and clearly equally surprised to see the other there. Stiles was dressed in his usual sleep attire - a baggy grey t-shirt that was as soft as anything Derek had ever felt before (they pooled laundry duty, okay), and a pair of faded, blue-check, drawstring pants. Derek himself was clad in just a pair of black cotton pants, preferring to sleep shirtless, especially now that summer was here and the temperature was steadily rising.

“I got this,” Derek said, eyes not moving from Stiles’ gaze. 

“You don’t have to. I’m up, it’s cool.” Stiles took a step forward, starting towards Maribelle’s room but Derek moved faster grabbing his shirt and holding him back. 

“No. I got this.” His voice was rougher than just from sleep, frustration leaking through. 

Stiles caught the voice, the tone, and looked over his shoulder at Derek and the hand the older man had on his shirt. “What did I do? I know you need the sleep,” he insisted, trying to shift out of Derek’s grip. 

“No. I need to actually _do_ something other than play chauffeur. You do everything. And you do it better. Trust me, they tell me. Stiles does it better.” The last part was half mimicking the kids’ voices, slightly higher pitched. “Let me at least do this. Be the big protector.” He needed Stiles to understand that that was what Derek was best at, but Stiles had always been trying to switch their roles, Stiles protecting Derek despite the size difference. 

Finally extricating himself from Derek’s hold, his shirt all askew, Stiles narrowed his eyes a little. Still, he nodded his head and stepped out the way. “Go get him, big guy.”

As Maribelle cried out again, Derek took off down the corridor to her room. He felt a weird sense of pride and achievement as he pandered to his daughter, making a show of checking under her bed for monsters. When she held out her arms for him, he climbed into bed, tucking her up next to him as he told her a story about how he and Uncle Scott always made sure that there were no monsters in Beacon Hills. Eventually, Maribelle closed her eyes and fell back to sleep, curled up against his side, using him as her own outsized teddy bear. Derek didn’t move for the rest of the night, an arm around her, keeping his daughter safe, just as he’d promised. 

He heard when Stiles finally stopped watching them through the crack of the door. Heard him creep back to his own room, and the quiet click as he closed the door behind him.

\----

“Ask your dad.”

“But _Stiles_!”

“I can’t, not right now. But Derek will - and trust me, he’s really good at that.”

“Not as good as you…”

“Hey, don’t say that. We’re just good in different ways. He’s cool, it’s just… Go ask you dad okay?” 

Derek sighed, out of sight of the conversation going on between Marcus and Stiles. It had been like this for the past few weeks. Ever since Maribelle had that nightmare and Derek had had to practically beg Stiles to give him a chance. He hadn’t expected the other man to take it to heart so much.

“But, but,” Marcus was begging a little, but Derek could almost hear the look that Stiles gave him, even if he couldn’t see it. It was on purpose. It had to be. Especially when a moment later Marcus appeared in the kitchen, climbing up on one of the stools to look at Derek while he worked on dinner, not asking whatever he wanted to ask right away, just alternating between watching Derek and his hands.

Derek waited a few moments more, then set aside what he was working on and moved closer to his son. “What is it big guy?” 

Marcus let out a dramatic sigh that only could be done by a kid his age as if he really didn’t want to ask the question, but he felt like he needed to. “Will you help me practice for football try-outs? We have to try out this year to make sure we get on a good team and I want to be on the good team.” 

He’d really been expecting something bigger than that, but Derek wound up nodding. “You got it. After dinner work?” 

Marcus looked up a tiny bit surprised, but that faded into a grin. “Yes. Definitely. I’ll go get my things so we’re ready!” Derek didn’t have a chance to respond before Marcus had dashed off, leaving him mostly alone in the kitchen. 

He glanced up at Stiles, who was lurking in the doorway, giving him a little look. “We said no lurking,” he reminded Stiles who just smiled and moved to help him with dinner. 

“I don’t mean to take over,” Stiles told him, after a moment or two where Derek had known he was leading up to something. He had that tension in his frame and the unconscious bounce that broadcast that he was dwelling on something and it wouldn’t be long until he burst. 

“I know,” Derek told him, turning back to his papers.

“It just that when I see something, I just kinda do it. I’ve always been the same. Delegation? Not my strong suit.”

“I know.”

“And three kids, all on your own, that’s a lot to ask of anyone, especially with no warning and then, I mean… I’m here and this is your house and I just… They’re great kids!”

“I know.”

“But… I didn’t mean to try and replace you or anything. I’m gonna - I’ll take a step back. I have been taking a step back. Not too far, because of that whole ‘three kids on your own’ thing, so don’t worry I’m going anywhere, but - you’re dad. I get that. Plus - football? Seriously? I have no idea where he got the idea that I’d be good at that over _you_. Lacrosse was my sport and I played, what? Less than a handful of matches in my entire high school career. You’re totally better for him with that than me.”

“I know.”

Stiles opened his mouth to start again but somehow managed to draw the flow of words up short. “You knew. You know.” He paused for a moment, chewing at his lower lip to keep from bouncing. “You’re not mad at me are you?” 

“I’m not mad,” Derek confirmed, handing Stiles the pot of potatoes. He hadn’t really been mad before, just feeling as if he wasn’t doing enough. As if somehow Stiles had managed to take over with Derek even realizing it. It wasn’t a bad thing, but they were still his kids. He needed to do something - so it felt more like they were doing this together. Now that Stiles was actually fighting for that balance, Derek couldn’t complain about it anymore. 

\-----

Despite the fact that there were more of them than him, the Sheriff insisted. He was adamant about the fact that they come over for the Fourth of July. He’d bought food, invited some of their friends, bought fireworks that upon on inspection seemed less than legal. It was a big deal and Derek, Stiles, and the kids were along for the ride. 

“Come help me with the grill Derek,” the Sheriff said as he passed where Stiles and Derek were sitting with Scott and Lydia at the patio table. They’d been watching the kids roll around in the yard - including Evan who was crawling and starting to pull himself up. He’d be taking his first steps soon, Stiles had read up on that. 

Derek looked at Stiles for help who just shrugged and he managed to avoid eye contact with Lydia and Scott who were both doing a terrible job of keeping from laughing out loud behind hands and bit lips. “Sure thing, sir,” he said, rolling his eyes at himself with how formal he sounded. 

The Sheriff still smiled as he dropped burgers, hot dogs and more on the grill, directing Derek through the process, explaining things even though Derek was pretty sure he could handle hot dogs. When they were done, the Sheriff closed the grill and looked at Derek, tone turned from jovial to slightly serious. “How’re thing at home?” he asked and Derek instinctively looked back towards Stiles. 

“Fine. Kids are good. Really good. They seemed to be getting settled.” Derek wasn’t sure what the Sheriff was asking about, but the kids seemed happy, ready to spend time with their “Pops”.

“And with Stiles?” 

That question was more pointed, as if the Sheriff was asking something more than just if they were getting along. “Um,” Derek started and swallowed, looking back over at Stiles again, not able to help himself. “Things are fine. We’re fine. We make a good team.” 

“Right,” Sheriff Stilinski said, looking back and forth between his son and the man next to him, before he settled his gaze on Derek once again. “You know, if you two ever need some time off, I’m happy to take the kids,” he said, with an air of significance that had Derek confused.

“Um - thanks,” Derek said, slowly, because that seemed to be what was warranted in this situation, and he was trying to be polite and not put a foot wrong with this guy who was not only Stiles’ dad, but also seemingly his children’s surrogate grandparent. Plus the cop who had once tried to arrest him for murder.

Oblivious. That would be what Stiles would say if he was aware of what was going on, if he was willing to admit to his half of it. “Not a problem,” the older man said, patting Derek’s shoulder and nodding back towards his friends. “Go relax. I’ll get Stiles to help with the rest.” 

Derek gave the man a little bit of a look, but wound up nodding and heading back to the table, stopping to scoop Evan up as he passed him. The little boy clung to his neck, cooing and murmuring noises that weren’t quite words yet, but close. “I think I’m missing something,” he said, talking to Evan like he always did, like he was more of an adult. Evan didn’t answer but grabbed for his hair, pulling at it until they got back to the table and he was reaching for Lydia who took him happily.

Evan settled in Lydia’s lap, pulling at her necklaces, playing with them while she looked at Derek. “Everything okay?” she asked, voice low, but Scott and Stiles had been roped into a game of some sorts with Marcus and Maribelle that involved more running around the yard than anything else. 

“I think so,” Derek said. He was quiet for a moment then shook his head. “Just feel like I’m missing something. We’re fine though. Me and Stiles.” 

Lydia smiled a little more this time, trying to not to laugh. “I don’t think anyone doubts that. Or was asking about it.” 

Derek opened his mouth to ask her about that, when Maribelle squealed from across the yard. Derek looked across only to see Stiles throw his daughter up into the air and catch her again, much to her obvious delight. 

“He’s really good with them,” Lydia said, moving closer to him on the bench, until they were sitting side by side. Derek nodded, a small smile playing across his face. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched his children play. Marcus and Scott had found water guns and had started a war against Stiles and Maribelle. It was all shrieks and laughter from the little group. “Of course, that’s why you keep him around, isn’t it?” she asked, quietly and in that pointedly innocent tone.

Derek’s brow furrowed as he tried to work out exactly why that question bothered him so much. Before he could answer, there was a real cry from Maribelle and she burst into tears. Derek dropped to a knee and opened his arms for her to run into as soon as he realised she was headed directly for him. “Marcus shot me in the eye!” she cried into his shoulder. “He’s a great big meanie!!”

Stiles was torn, not sure what to do. He wanted to do what Derek was doing for Maribelle, but Maribelle had run to her father, not him. Whatever he was. Instead he turned his focus to Marcus who looked terrified, like he’d really screwed up. He moved closer to him, taking the water gun and handing it to Scott. “Marcus.” Stiles was surprised at how stern his tone sounded, that he could sound like that, and it was enough that Marcus instantly burst into tears, cling to Stiles’ leg. 

“I didn’t mean to Stiles! I didn’t! I promise! I didn’t!” 

Stiles had to look to Derek who was still comforting Maribelle, wrapped up in his arms, though she’d stopped crying. Everything in Stiles’ look said ‘now what’ and Derek headed his way, wanting to so badly to reach out and comfort the man as much as the boy. “Marcus, apologize to your sister.” 

Stiles, pried the boy off his leg, steering him to stand in front of Derek, though Marcus was hanging his head and dragging his feet and trying desperately to stay hidden behind Stiles, still sobbing. Stiles dropped into a crouch in front of Marcus, glancing up at Derek for a moment, and only carrying on when Derek nodded an encouragement.

“Marcus, dude - I get it. You didn’t mean it,” he said, wiping the tears away from the boy’s face. “So - you gotta show your sister that you didn’t mean it. What do we know? If you don’t mean it, you don’t do it. But if you do it - then you say sorry, right? Okay?”

“Okay…” Marcus muttered. He glanced up at Derek and Maribelle for a fraction of a second, then back down at the ground. “SrryMrbll,” he muttered, the words barely audible.

“I know you can do better than that, buddy. Try again,” Stiles admonished. He really didn’t want to get cross at the kid. Discipline had never been his strong point. He was more about learning through play and so far, that had pretty much worked for him.

Marcus took a breath and looked up again. “Sorry Maribelle,” he said, louder this time.

“Why are you sorry?” Derek prompted, less forgiving than Stiles, since he was holding a little girl who was only just stopping crying.

“I didn’t mean to shoot you like that.”

Stiles was hating this but he picked up on where Derek was going as much as it hurt him. “And?” he asked Marcus, not looking at Derek as much as he wanted to, focusing on Marcus instead. 

“And I won’t do it again,” Marcus tried earning himself a nod from Derek. 

“Good. No more playing. Go help the Sheriff with setting the table,” Derek instructed, setting Maribelle down. Finally he looked up at Stiles, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out to him. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said, earnestly, as Scott took Maribelle inside to get her some ice cream. 

Derek stared at him, wide eyed and utterly confused. “Sorry - what for?”

“I should have been looking out for her more. Keeping more of an eye on Marcus.”

“Stiles - don’t beat yourself up over this. They’re just kids playing. Nobody really got hurt.” When Stiles didn’t look convinced, Derek shook his head. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Look,” he said, pointing to where Maribelle was happily working her way through a small bowl of ice cream, chattering away to Scott and Melissa. Then Derek turned Stiles’ attention to Marcus, who was listening, wide eyed, to one of the Sheriff’s tales about some of his wilder cases. “Thanks for the back up though. You handled it really well.”

Stiles looked back at him, quirking a smile. “You handled it better,” he joked.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I,” Derek teased back. “Finally, I beat you at something…”

“Well, it’s not really news that you’re good at being mean and scary,” Stiles said making his best scary face at Derek, which was more ridiculous. 

Again Derek wanted to reach out for him, do something with that face and the tease. “Don’t forget it.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled Derek’s arm to get him back towards the picnic table. “Come on. Let’s go save Evan from Lydia or he’ll have a new wardrobe neither of us will understand.” Derek went willingly, smiling a little bit, but he did shake his arm free when Lydia gave him a curious look. 

\-------

They’d gone a little overboard at the party store, but it was Maribelle’s first birthday party since her mother had left and Derek hadn’t wanted her to think about that for a second. As a result, the living room, the backyard and the kitchen were covered in pink streamers, pink plates and cups, and plastic tiaras, which were being handed out to the other little girls who came to the party. Every sparkly decoration that the store had had was hung up on the wall, put on a spare surface, or stuck to something. Maribelle had a new dress, Sleeping Beauty’s he thought - a gift from Sheriff Stilinski that was probably too much, but he had a soft spot for the little girl - and a much nicer tiara, and she was giggling with all her friends. 

Stiles was dressed for the occasion too, his own plastic tiara tangled in his hair, because Maribelle had put it there before the party and it went well with the feather boa she’d also dressed him in. Derek had woken up to find a pink button down hanging on the door of his closet, something that Stiles had picked out just for the party so he’d be themed too. 

The whole thing was kind of exhausting, but at least there were beers for the parents, which didn’t really do much for him, but it gave Derek something to do with his hands as the other mothers shifted his way. “Your...boyfriend is cute,” one of them said, a mother from Maribelle’s ballet class. She gestured with her beer towards Stiles who was standing in a crowd of young girls explaining rules to some game he’d made up or found online or something. 

“My...what? No. Nooo,” Derek shook his head, looking at Stiles then back at the woman. As if he’d given her some sort of invitation though she invaded his personal space, smiling devilishly. 

“Oh good. You know, we were worried. All the good ones have handsome boyfriends.” She ran her fingers over his forearm, just where the sleeves of the pink shirt were rolled up. 

Derek cleared his throat, uncomfortably, and shot a ‘help me!’ look at Stiles, who had just set the girls on the little treasure hunt, holding a clue to get to the prize. He had always been pretty good at flirting with women when he wanted something. A smile, a nice word, a twinkle of the eye. Getting rid of them when he wasn’t interested though - that was something entirely different.

Stiles caught the look and was torn between going to the rescue and just standing back. Derek was his own guy, after all. Grown man and everything - he had to be able to deal with women like this, surely, but he really hoped this wasn’t going to be a thing where Derek wound up sleeping with bored housewives because he suddenly had access to them. Making a decision, he shot Derek an amused look and walked over to grab himself a beer of his own.

Derek glared at Stiles’ retreating form and then turned his attention back to the hand on his arm, and the woman attached to it. “Um, Ashley, right?”

“Uhuh,” Ashley said with a smile, stepping a little closer.

“Right. Ashley. See, the thing is, Ashley,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a charming smile.

“Uhuh?”

“The thing is - I’m not really… looking to get involved. With anyone, right now.”

Ashley raised an eyebrow then caught herself looking back toward Stiles then at Derek. “Not looking to get involved or you are already.” 

Derek shook his head. “I said that part already, I’m not with him. We’re… friends.” Who were raising three kids together. It would seriously be easier to explain if they were a couple. 

“Mmhmm. Darling, I hate to break it to you. Either you’re with him or you should get busy finding someone to prove you aren’t. Now...where were we?” 

Derek shifted away from her again, shaking his head. “Say what you want. I’m not interested. Sorry.” 

“Just dinner,” she said, clearly okay with not taking no for an answer. “I know this great little Italian place on the edge of town.”

“He’s busy.” Stiles’ voice was firm and determined as he cut into the conversation, staring Ashley down.

She arched a brow as she looked over at him. “Sorry - are you his personal secretary or something?” she asked him, archly.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stiles agreed, without missing a beat. “Personal secretary, nanny, best friend - lots of titles in there. Basically comes down to knowing what he does and doesn’t want. And what he doesn’t want? Is you. Okay? So… There’s beer, and cake. Lots of cake. You should go have cake.” He eyed the skinny, overly made up woman up and down. “You look like you need some… thing.”

Derek was surprised that suddenly Stiles was there, coming to his defense, and in a sense telling this woman off. That was something new. His surprise faded as Ashley looked at him and he shrugged. “Not interested. Like he said, cake. Something. Sorry.” The woman gave them both a dirty look and moved away. 

“See how well dating goes for you now Derek,” she threatened then walked away, already starting into gossiping with the other mothers. 

“That’s probably not going to go well,” Stiles said. Before he could say more, Derek shoved him maybe a touch harder than he needed to. 

“Took you long enough to show up.” 

Stiles pushed him back - though, pushing Derek was pretty much like pushing a brick wall. He didn’t give an inch, unlike Stiles, who had stumbled backward a step. “I thought you could handle yourself!” he protested.

“Well, clearly not!”

“Clearly - you need saving from the scary, scary attack of _one of Maribelle’s friend’s mothers_!” Stiles exclaimed, making wiggly finger movements and expressive hand gestures. “Ooh, big, bad Derek - scared of a tiny little woman!”

“Shut up.”

Stiles had no intention of doing any such thing, caught up in the moment. “Ooh, I’m Derek Hale - I’ll glower my way through almost anything. Face danger with a growl and a few perfectly executed somersaults, then get in fights that hopefully end up with me losing my shirt, so I can show off my perfect abs. But put me in a normal social situation where I have to talk to people and I’m about as fierce as a bunny rabbit - and I’m not talking the Monty Python kind,” he mimicked.

“Stiles,” Derek’s tone went harsher, quieter. “Shut. Up.” 

Stiles wasn’t afraid, not even of that voice, as scary as it was meant to be. “No. You’re the one afraid of telling some woman you can’t go out with her. The one clearly _bad_ at it. What happened? Big bad wolf get all scared?” 

“Stiles. Stop talking. Or you’ll regret. And stop talking about my abs. That’s weird.” A nice little compliment but weird. “Just… Let’s let her open presents. That’ll distract everyone.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped, Stiles’ reaction to the word ‘presents’. He bounced in his place, then took off toward the house. “Present time, everyone!” he called, his words answered by a chorus of cheers from the sugar-high group of sparkly princesses. And Marcus, who had spent the entire afternoon trying to avoid being turned into a sparkly princess by his sister and her friends, but had still ended up with glitter being thrown at him. God, they were going to be cleaning glitter out of the house for months. No, _years_ , Derek thought with despair as he trailed along behind the rest, herding in the stragglers.

As he entered the living room, he found Stiles pretty much holding court, Maribelle sitting on his knee as he put on a show based around which present she should get in which order. Derek just leaned against the back wall and watched. Stiles could have this one - it was far more his thing, after all.

Maribelle was clapping, loving the attention, her friends, and Stiles, especially Stiles. It radiated in her, everywhere. All the other girls lined up to get the order right, handing out boxes when it was their turn. It was a variety of gifts, clothes picked out by mothers who thought the two men could use help, dolls, other pink items that Derek was only seeing as more things to pick up after. 

The last few gifts were from her family - Marcus handing his over. It was something Stiles had helped him pick out, a game that looked half as much for Marcus as much as it was for Maribelle. His sister gave him a look, but she still seemed happy about it. The gift from Stiles went with the dress she was wearing - all the accessories, which Stiles swore the person at the store helped him pick out. 

Derek’s gift was last, something he’d felt ridiculous getting because the store had been ridiculous. Stiles had led him through all the steps, picking out the perfect bear, filling it with stuffing and then picking out the perfect little outfit, a ballet tutu and little shoes. Maribelle reacted just the way he wanted her too, squealing with delight, jumping up from Stiles. “Daddy, daddy, daddy, I love it.” She threw her arms around him, letting him pick her up and cuddle her against him. It was weird, how just hearing her call him daddy over Derek made his insides melt a little. 

Derek met Stiles’ eyes across the room, and realised that the other man looked exactly the same way that he knew he must look. His eyes shining with joy and pride. They shared a moment, before Derek put Maribelle down and announced that it was time for cake.

They’d bought it in in the end. Stiles had been saying for the longest time that he was going to make the cake himself, but once Derek had realised the kinds of epic creations Stiles had in mind. Once he’d seen the YouTube videos and tutorial sites and the amount of extra stuff that they’d need and realised quite how much Stiles had _never done anything like this before_ , Derek had called a stop to the whole thing. It hadn’t gone down too well at first. Possibly because it was two am, and Stiles was on his gazillionth video of the night - having started his latest research session for ‘the perfect cake’ straight after Maribelle had been put to bed. They hadn’t even had dinner together, the way they usually did these days. No, Stiles had been tied to his computer and Derek had had enough. He had closed the laptop screen to much protesting, halfway through a video and simply stood there, stoically, whilst Stiles railed at him about perfection and the importance of childhood milestones. Then, once the man was done, he handed him a flier for the new bakery in town and said that they had an appointment the next day for Stiles to tell Daniella, the owner, exactly what he wanted.

That was how they ended up with Cinderella’s Castle in cake form. A beauteous masterpiece that was reduced to crumbs in about five seconds flat. Thank heaven they had photos.

After the cake, the party, they kids were running again, hopped up on sugar and ice cream, which was at least keeping them distracted and gave Derek a moment to start the clean up as Stiles led yet another game. This one managed to burn off the last of the energy and as the kids started to drop, their parents collected them and took them home. 

At the end even Maribelle was out cold, new teddy bear clutched to her chest, tiara askew as she slept. Stiles smiled at her on the couch before joining Derek in the kitchen. “Successful party right?” he asked, tossing a few more of the paper plates and cups into the trash. 

Derek glanced up from the sink, wiping his hands on his jeans and reached for the tiara still stuck in Stiles’ hair, pulling it out and setting it on the counter. “Yes. Very. Happy birthday girl, happy dad.” 

“And happy other… Happy Stiles.” Mostly happy Stiles. He’d be happier if the moment was more between them, not just the two of them talking around it. He could close the space between them, remind Derek why those _stupid_ women were just that, but before he could get past the fleeting thought Evan started crying, awake from his nap. Stiles sighed and waved Derek off. “I got him. You’re already on a roll in here.” He skirted away from Derek and all but dashed for the stairs. Suddenly a crying baby and diaper duty was the easiest thing he could think of. 


	3. Fall

“What’s the deal with your dads anyway?” 

Marcus looked up and glared at his classmate. “I only have one dad.” Kind of. Derek wasn’t really his dad. And Stiles wasn’t his dad either. Stiles was just Stiles. 

“No, there's two. The big one and the skinny one. I mean are they together? Because Vicky’s got two moms, but they’re married. What about you?” 

Marcus continued to glare, hand balling into a fist. “They're not married. So what. They’re not my dads. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard he doesn’t even have a dad. Not even the one he thinks is his dad.” That was another classmate. “I heard his dad left him. Just like his mom.” 

It was too much. Marcus was probably fine until his mother got tossed into the mix, but that was too much. He lunged, catching the other boy around the middle, which dropped them both to the ground so Marcus could throw a couple of punches. Two others jumped in on the fight, leaving them rolling around, shouting, hitting, and biting until the teachers broke them up. 

Calling Stiles in for this sort of wasn’t what Derek wanted to do, but he was stuck in a client meeting and he couldn’t go when the principal called. Someone had to go get Marcus, take him home since he’d been suspended and Derek just couldn’t. So Stiles showed up, and was shown into the principal's office. Shockingly enough, it looked the same as it always had. Marcus was in a chair that looked stupidly familiar, along with the principal who was the same, just much, much older. 

“Mr. Stilinski, please don’t tell me you’re part of this,” the older man said pinching the space at the bridge of his nose. 

A sniffling, dirty, and bruised Marcus was reaching for Stiles though, and Stiles went to him, reaching for his hand and holding it. “Not entirely. I mean Marcus is the one that got into it, but I’m his other emergency contact when his dad’s busy. What happened - Marcus doesn’t get into fights,” Stiles said. He was already mentally blaming the other kids and his tone suggested that he wanted confirmation of that.

“We don’t exactly know. Neither Marcus nor the other boys would say anything.”

Marcus looked up at Stiles, a wide-eyed, bruised, picture of misery. “You don’t tell,” he said, quietly.

“Marcus was found fighting with three other boys. All they’ll say is that he started it. The other kids and the supervising teacher all confirm that he hit Jason Danvers. Marcus knocked Jason to the floor and continued punching him, until Jason’s friends Karl Phillips and Ben Weinstein got involved.” The Principal paused, then added, “Ben says Marcus tried to bite him.”

Stiles rounded on Marcus then, his mouth dropping. “Marcus! What’ve we always said? You _do not bite people_. Ever. Never. Understand?”

Marcus shrank further into his seat, letting go of Stiles’ hand. “I’m sorry, Stiles - I didn’t. Not really. But they were saying mean things about you and dad.”

The principal didn’t seem to know what to do with Stiles acting the way he was, like he’d seen a ghost. “He’ll have to go home, since right now he’s the one who that started it.” 

Stiles wasn’t listening to the principal though. “What did they say? I told you already, nothing that they say matters. You have us and we have you, and we’re happy.” 

Marcus sniffed again and shook his head. “They said my mom left me and I didn’t have a dad.” New tears started again and Stiles reached for him, pulling him closer. 

“He has to go home today?” Stiles asked, getting a nod back. “Then I’ll take him. Come on, let’s go home. He won’t do it again,” Stiles promised to the principal. “But you need to expand your curriculum on how all families are different. And I promise you this. His father is going to want to know exactly what those boys said. Marcus might have thrown the first punch, but he didn’t start it,” he said, darkly, as he stood and tucked Marcus into his side as they headed out.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“It’s okay, dude. We’re gonna go home, and your dad’s gonna be there as soon as he can. It’s gonna be okay - but… We’re gonna have to have another conversation about biting, okay? Then we’re gonna talk to the school. You know we love you, right? I know… We’re different, but different’s not bad. Anyone who tries to tell you that it is just wrong and dumb and not worth your time, okay?”

Marcus sunk into his seat in the car, not able to look at Stiles. “I know. It’s just… They said you two were weird. That I didn’t have a dad and you weren’t like Vicky’s moms because they’re married and you two just are.” He was mumbling and Stiles only got half of it as he drove them home, but it was enough for him to run his hand through his hair. How was he going to explain that? 

“Look your dad and I are friends. And that’s what matters.” That wasn’t a good answer and the look that Marcus gave him told him as much. 

“Do you love dad?” Marcus asked and Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Of course he knew that didn’t actually fix anything, but it might get him out of the moment. 

He stalled long enough to get them into the driveway, which thankfully had Derek’s car in it and Derek was standing in the driveway waiting. “Do I have to tell him?” Marcus sounded scared and Stiles nodded. 

“Tell him everything. He’ll need to know.” Stiles reached out and squeezed Marcus’ shoulder. “Promise. He won’t be angry at you.” 

Marcus didn’t say a word as they all went inside and into the living room. It was clear that he didn’t want to say anything at all, especially since Derek was wearing a disappointed expression. 

“Go on,” Stiles prompted, as they sat down on the sofa, Marcus in between the two adults. “You need to tell him, or otherwise I’m gonna have to, and you know me - I’ll get the detail all wrong, like the time I tried to tell Pops about the pirate adventures we had.”

That got a smile out of Marcus at least, and he nodded and turned to Derek. “Jason Danvers and his friends were saying that I was weird because my real dad left me and all I had now were two fake dads, only you weren’t dads at all and so I hit him.”

Stiles made a face behind Marcus’ back, pained because he really didn’t have an answer. Derek ran his fingers over his forehead and sighed, nodding. He would have done the same thing wouldn’t he? “You do have a dad. That’s me, doesn’t matter one way or another. You know that right?” Marcus nodded. “And you’ve got Stiles.” Derek looked up to get more guidance, seeing that pained looked on Stiles’ face, but it faded a second later and Stiles waved for Derek to go on. “But we don’t… We don’t solve problems fighting. That doesn’t get anyone anywhere.” Stiles looked pleased, like not just Marcus had learned a lesson. Marcus nodded sagely and Derek went on. “You’re still in trouble, but I know you were upset. Go on, up to your room. Think about it.” 

Marcus was slow as he got up, but he did, dragging himself up the stairs so that they heard every single one until he was at the top and the door closed with a thud. Stiles fell back against the couch. Derek looked at his hands and got up. “I’m going to call that kid’s mother,” he insisted.

Getting up after him Stiles rolled his eyes. “What are you going to tell them? That we’re parents? That she make sure her son know that Marcus has two dads. Or what was that again? A dad and a Stiles?” 

Derek turned, looking frustrated. “What other answer is there? You’re the one who’s first to tell people we’re not together. We aren’t together. We’re just here.” He shook his head and dug around the drawer for the phone directory for the school. “I’ll call her and sort this out.” 

“You think I don’t know that! I know we’re not together. I… I don’t know. It’s… Scott’s Uncle Scott. My dad is Pops. Lydia is Aunt Lydia. Everyone in our lives has a role but _me_.”

“Is that it? You wanna be ‘Uncle Stiles’? Really?” Derek shot back, his tone full of doubt. ‘Uncle’ didn’t seem the right word for Stiles. It simply wasn’t enough.

“No. No - I just… Urg!” Stiles exclaimed, frustratedly, burrowing his hands in his hair and throwing his head back. He turned full circle, then dropped his arms. “I don’t _want_ to be Uncle Stiles, I just - I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what they _need_. I just know that Marcus is getting into trouble at school because we can’t put a definition on this, this, this _thing_ and I hate that. More than anything.”

Derek watched Stiles, head tilted to the side as he ranted. After a moment he reached out for Stiles, catching his shoulders. “You are Stiles. That’s what they need. They need you. It doesn’t need a definition.” Derek felt Stiles’ body change in his arms, tensing slightly, but also relaxing at the same time. Eventually though Stiles let out a sigh and Derek moved back after squeezing his shoulders once more.

“I’m Stiles. It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but it was as close to fine as he could get. He sighed and moved back. “Call his mom. See if you can fix it. I’m gonna go make sure that Marcus doesn’t need any first aid.” 

Derek watched Stiles as he walked across the room and disappeared up the stairs. He felt unsettled, something in the pit of his stomach in addition to the anger flowing hot through his system at the fact that his kid, his son, was apparently being bullied in school. For something that was his fault. Once again, people were getting hurt because of him, and as always, he had no idea how to fix it. Not the way he wanted. Instead, all he could do was phone some kid’s mom and hope that the message got through.

That and make an appointment to see the school principal.

\-----

Stiles had been alternating between sitting on the couch, and pacing to the window to check the street, ever since he’d put the kids to bed an hour ago. When he heard the familiar sound of Derek’s car turning into the driveway, he met the other man at the door, before he could even get his key out to open it.

“Well?” he asked, radiating impatience. It was better, at least, that radiating hurt at the fact that Derek had cornered the school principal into a late night emergency meeting about Marcus and Stiles hadn’t been invited to come along. His attendance hadn’t even been mentioned. It was just ‘I have a meeting with the principal, so you’re gonna have to put the kids to bed. Don’t let them wait up for me.’

It had stung like an open wound, reminding Stiles just how much of a parent to these kids he really wasn’t. Regardless of how he felt in his heart, he was the only one who felt that way. To the rest of the world, he was just Stiles. In everything he did, that’s all he was. Not quite enough.

Derek looked up at Stiles surprised he was there waiting. “Well, he’s not suspended, he can go back. And I’ll talk to him about families, that he’s got a dad and that’s fine. I explained our situation to the principal and he said he understood. Said I’m not the first single parent to show up in his office.” 

Stiles blinked twice not sure what to say to that. “Single parent?” Now he didn’t even register. At least before he thought he registered with Derek, when they were alone and behind closed doors. Only now he didn’t seem to care even when it was just the two of them, kids in bed. 

“That’s what I am right?” Derek pushed past Stiles to get into the house, headed for the kitchen. “So it’s fine. All of it’s fine. We just need them to know,” he said gesturing upstairs. 

Stiles swallowed, bristling as the anger and hurt surged through him. Clutching his hands into fists, he pushed it down. He had to, or he was going to completely lose it. He couldn’t do that, not with the kids in the house. “Yeah. It’s fine. You can let them know tomorrow when they’re actually awake,” he said, his voice tightly controlled. He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and pulled it on. “I’m going out. It’s been too long since I saw Scott.” Too long as in the fact that Stiles hardly went out anymore, unless it was to family gatherings. They both knew it. He thought that that was just how it was. They had a _home_. Together. They were a _family_. Only not. No, Derek was a single parent, and Stiles… Stiles was just a lodger who helped out. 

Pulling open the front door, he cast a glance at Derek. “Don’t wait up,” he said, before heading out.

“What?” Derek asked, turning around to see Stiles, not sure why he was leaving. Not with that tone. “Are you coming back?” he asked, but Stiles had already closed the door behind him and Derek was left in an empty house all by himself. Mostly. He knew Stiles said not to wait up, but he also knew he would do just that. Even if it meant sleeping on the couch. 

\-----

Scott was still trying to figure out why Stiles was there. Sure, it was awesome that he just showed up, demanded to go out and then agreeably headed to a bar, but the guy was more than halfway drunk already and Scott wasn’t sure what to do with him. “So...did you and Derek have a fight?” he ventured, on about his fourth suggestion for possible reasons why Stiles would be out and not at home being half dad of the year. 

“What? No.” Stiles’ words were slurred as he spoke. “If we were going to have a fight we’d have to be something other than roommates and we’re roommates and he happens to have kids. It’s not a fight because I don’t mean enough to warrant a fight.” 

“So it’s a fight.” Scott was pretty sure they weren’t just roommates, but neither had admitted to anything and no one had managed to catch them stealing more than a friendly glance here and there, so they were keeping it pretty well under wraps. “What was it about?” 

“Not a fight,” Stiles reminded him. “Just me - learning my place. You have a place. You’re Uncle Scott. Hell, even my dad has a place! He’s Pops. He’s a damn grandfather, but me? No, I don’t have a place. Because _Derek’s_ a single father. And I’m a _Stiles_. So, fine. I can be a Stiles and Stiles isn’t going to sit and home every night. Stiles is going to go out and live a Stiles life with my best buddy Scott,” he declared, throwing an arm around Scott’s shoulders.

Scott frowned at that. None of that sounded right, not from what he’d seen. “Where’s all this coming from?” he asked, carefully. He felt like he was missing important pieces of a puzzle here.

“Coming from? It’s coming from Derek and the principal and Marcus and… everyone. It’s all been explained now, you know. Because Marcus got into this fight at school about the fact that he didn’t have two dads and Derek went to sort it out and he sorted it out and now everyone knows that Marcus doesn’t have two dads. He has one dad and a Stiles. And you know that’s not even what Marcus wants because he asked me in the car, he said, he said, he said…” Stiles shook his head, changing his mind about passing on what Marcus had asked him. “Doesn’t matter. It’s all fixed now and so fine. He wants to be a single father - let him do it. I don’t care!”

“You’re doing a lousy job of seeming like you don’t care,” Scott pointed out, sipping at his drink. “So Derek wants you to move out? Stop being there?” That felt like a breakup, like they were done and Scott wasn’t sure that Derek could do it on his own. “What does Marcus want? What did he ask?” Whatever it was that seemed important. 

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Stiles countered, swaying a little in his seat. “No, I’m not moving out. I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything about moving out. I don’t want to move out. Marcus doesn’t know what he wants. He just said something, asked something and I didn’t have an answer. Or well I didn’t. Now I do. Now it’s firmly ‘no’.” Only that wasn’t right either. Stiles was pretty sure it was still yes, or something close to yes and that was why this hurt so damn much. 

Scott knew when he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of Stiles. “So, what are you gonna do?” he asked.

“I am gonna drink!” Stiles declared, downing the last of his glass. “We, my friend, need to do shots!”

“Oh no, no, not happening,” Scott told him, shaking his head. “My mom will have my ass if I take you into the ER with alcohol poisoning, which is where you’ll be headed if we get onto shots.” At the challenging look Stiles gave him, Scott decided to go for the low blow. “And how will you explain that to the kids? They’ll expect you there for breakfast, fully functioning and everything.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, giving Scott a dirty glare. “That’s right - play on my weak points. Cheater,” he grumbled. “I should, you know? I should just… Move out. Leave him to it. See how far he’d actually get without me.”

“But you won’t.”

“No. I won’t! And you know why? Because Imma Stiles. I’m their Stiles. And they’ve already had two parents leave them. So their Stiles isn’t gonna. No matter what _he_ says. He doesn’t matter. But he’s gonna have to step up his game, because I’m gonna… Gonna… Gonna…”

“...Pass out,” Scott sighed, as Stiles slumped against his shoulder. He shook his head and stood, pulling Stiles up with him. “Come on, dude, let’s get you home.”

\-----

“You need to sort this out.” Having used Stiles’ key to let himself in, Scott heaped a mostly comatose Stiles into Derek’s arms. Derek, who had clearly been waiting up, and who now wore a worried look that was almost reaching panic levels.

“Is he okay?” Derek asked, leading - half carrying - Stiles over to the couch and easing him down.

“Physically fine - just needs to sleep it off. But you guys seriously need to talk.”

“What did he say? Did he say what was wrong? He just… left earlier,” Derek said. He had shifted to sit on one end of the couch, moving Stiles so his head was cradled in Derek’s lap. Scott mentally rolled his eyes at them and sighed.

“Look, it’s not for me to tell you about his issues. Not if he won’t tell you himself. But, you _need_ to talk to him.”

“If he’s not going to tell me how am I supposed to get anywhere?” Derek asked, using the tone he always did with Scott - mild impatience. 

Scott sighed dramatically and ran both his hands through his hair, keeping them tangled on the top of his head. “Part of him wants to leave. I’ll give you that. So go into it with that.” 

“You’re not actually helping.” Derek felt that panic rise again though, the worry he’d been near drowning in since Stiles walked out earlier. That fear that he wouldn’t come back. He couldn’t just leave them. The kids. Not him. The kids wouldn’t handle it if Stiles suddenly wasn’t there every morning or evening. 

“No one said I was helpful,” Scott said, rolling his eyes for real this time and leaving. They had to see it? How could they not? Well, if they didn’t see it, they didn’t need him telling them what was going on. They were going to need to figure that one out on their own. 

With the door closed behind Scott, Derek was left alone with a mostly unconscious Stiles in his lap. What was he going to do? What had gone so wrong that Stiles had decided he wanted to leave? Running his hand over his face, Derek looked down at the younger man not sure what to do. He should get up, maybe take Stiles up to his room, or maybe just leave him where he was, blanket over him. One of those, he’d do one of those - eventually. 

Shaking his head, Derek let his fingers card through Stiles’ hair lightly, watching him murmur in his sleep. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered before getting up and replacing his lap with a pillow. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over Stiles, making a mental note to make sure the kids were quieter in the morning to avoid Stiles’ inevitable hangover. 

\-----

Derek had tried to talk to Stiles. He really had. Yet, it seemed that no matter what he did, things just got worse. It had been going on for weeks now and Derek had no idea what to do. Stiles was still physically there. During the times that the children were about, he acted just like Stiles had always acted since they came into their lives. He laughed with them, he played with them. As far as the kids were concerned, nothing had changed.

As far as Derek was concerned, however, everything had changed.

Out of sight of the children, it was like living with a ghost. Derek didn’t think he had ever really appreciated how much of a life they had had together, until it was abruptly gone. He knew Stiles was avoiding him. Working longer hours now. Never being home in time for the dinners they had habitually shared together after the kids had gone to bed. Derek had even made Stiles’ favorites a few times, in the hope that they’d be able to talk. That maybe the gesture would help Stiles to open up to him. Every time, the food had ended up in the fridge. Stiles had come home late, and immediately retreated to him room, leaving Derek feeling lost, confused - _lonely_.

\-----

Stiles wasn’t really doing much better with the forced separation, but he knew what he had to do. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in it all over again. He’d gotten his heart stomped on and until he stopped craving more from Derek he could avoid the hell out of him. He was starting to get it, what it was like for parents who hated each other to just stay together for the kids. It felt like that with Derek. 

As it was, he wasn’t keen on being caught in the kitchen late one night with nowhere to go, raiding the fridge for whatever dinner it was that Derek had made that he’d skipped, but was now starving for. 

“You know, it was better two hours ago.” Stiles stopped with his head in the fridge, not needing to shut the door to see who was standing on the other side of it. Pulling out the plate and closing the door he didn’t look at Derek, dressed for bed and leaning with one hip on the counter. 

“I was busy. Sorry. I’m sure it’s still good.” He took the food to the microwave, setting it up to be reheated. 

“You’re not busy. You’ve never been this busy before.” 

Stiles was glad his back was to Derek because he couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say and look at him. “Yeah well before I was under the impression that I was something else. Now I know my place. I suddenly have more free time.” 

Derek let out a low growl of frustration. “Nothing’s changed Stiles.” It felt like a lie. Everything had changed, but Derek felt like Stiles had been the one to change it.

“I know nothing’s changed. That’s the whole point. I thought things… I thought they could be different. I was wrong. I can’t - I can’t keep pretending they’re different. I need to get on with living _my_ life.”

“And you haven’t been?” Derek asked him.

“No, Derek,” Stiles said, abruptly turning to face him, stalking over to where Derek was standing and getting up in his face about things. “I haven’t. I’ve been molding my life around Marcus, Maribelle, and Evan. You. Ever since they got here. They’ve been my life.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. “Are… are you leaving the kids?” he asked, sounding lost.

“No!” Stiles exclaimed, though his ever present awareness of the three sleeping bodies upstairs meant his voice never raised above a harsh whisper. “Hell, no. I would never do that to them. What kind of a person do you think I am? I’m just… taking a step back. Letting you do your thing.” He looked up and to the left, not able to meet Derek’s eyes. “Getting out of the way.”

If Stiles wasn’t leaving the kids he sure as hell was leaving something. “You aren’t in the way,” Derek insisted, wanting Stiles to just look at him, that was all, look at him. “Don’t be like this.” Derek didn’t have an alternative though, another option to provide that would find some sort of ground between them. 

“I was. Not anymore.” The microwave beeped to let him know his food was ready and Stiles moved away from Derek. He claimed his food and a fork then moved around Derek. “I’m going back to my room.” He had to take the long way out of the kitchen but he did manage to get out of there, heading back to his room to eat alone. 

\-----

By the time they’d gotten to Halloween Derek was just as done with Stiles. He’d given up on trying, on making dinners that didn’t get eaten, expecting Stiles to watch TV with him in the evenings, any of that. He just moved on. Started a different show on Netflix and called it good. He was fine. Lonely, but fine. Maybe he should call that Ashley woman and go out on a date sometime. 

They were barely talking anymore when Stiles just showed up in the kitchen one night, sitting down at the counter as Derek finished up cooking, like he always did. “Kids are in bed. I was looking at Halloween. You’ve got a client meeting that night and probably won’t be back in time for trick or treating, so I figure I’ll take the kids myself. You can just man the house with candy.” 

Derek’s head canted to the side as he made a face. “How do you know what my schedule is when we haven’t had a conversation in weeks?” They hadn’t been talking, Derek didn’t even know what Stiles was doing most of the time that he wasn’t with the kids. Stiles could be dating for how little Derek knew. 

Stiles just rolled his eyes. “Your entire work calendar is on your desk. It’s not like I’d have to hack into your email to see it. Though my guess is that you don’t have passwords set up for anything and it’s just a matter of turning on your computer. You should probably look at that - M and M are pretty good with tech. You want to risk them getting to your browser history.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t wanna know,” Stiles said, waving it off with a sweep of his hand. “None of my business anyway. Just says. Kids get curious and there’s some things that they don’t need to see at their ages.”

“But, I haven’t…”

“Seriously. Not. Interested. Halloween. I’ll take the kids. I’ll leave a bowl of candy by the door for when you get home,” Stiles told him, getting up from his seat, obviously having decided that the conversation was over. Derek watched him head toward the door.

“I can change my meeting!” he blurted, wanting to get rid of this feeling that everything was just _wrong_.

Stiles stopped and turned to him, and for a moment, a softer expression crossed his face. “You don’t have to. I got this. But M and M would love it if you were there when they got home. Night, Derek.”

He headed out the room before Derek had a chance to reply, leaving Derek just standing there. The kitchen felt huge and empty as Derek stared at the place where Stiles had been standing.

“...Night, Stiles,” he whispered to the empty room.

\-----

Derek was pretty sure he’d lost the contract. The way he’d hurried through the client meeting had been bordering on rude, but it had been worth it to get home in time to see the kids getting ready for Halloween. Even if Stiles had said that he didn’t have to be there, he’d realised that he didn’t want to be anywhere else, not tonight.

He had watched the whole ordeal over the previous few weeks. The kids deciding they _had_ to go as superheroes and Stiles building costumes. Derek, though, made sure that he was kept strictly out of it leading up to it, even at the last moment. He wanted to be a part, to walk around with the kids while they got heaps of candy for being so cute, but in no way was he letting Stiles dress him up as Wolverine or something worse. He wasn’t sure he was ready for a night out with Stiles like that anyway. It felt too close for comfort. 

He put on his best face though, helping the kids get dressed up. Maribelle was Wonder Woman, which felt a little trampy for a second grader, but Stiles had made sure she had a little skirt with leggings to go with it and a modest top. Marcus was Thor, which was also kind of silly, but he kept prancing about in his cape, making demands, swinging the plastic hammer around. Even Evan had a little costume, a batman baby outfit with a cape and printed on utility belt and hat that had pointed ears like a bat. 

Stiles was the icing on the adorable cake though, dressed as Captain America, though the part where he was wearing the suit under a leather jacket, which Derek was pretty sure was his. He still looked great even if he seemed slightly uncomfortable at the way Derek might have let his eyes linger. “You sure you don’t want to dress up and come with us?” Stiles asked, which led to Maribelle and Marcus both whining insistently that Derek come, but he still shook his head. 

“Promise. I’m fine. I’ll man the candy, right?” he suggested, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He squatted down to speak to the children - that was easier. “Someone’s gotta be here, right? What fun would trick or treating be if everyone was out and all the houses were empty?” he asked them, giving Maribelle a light pat on the end of her nose. “Have fun. Mind Stiles and remember…”

“Always hold his hand when we cross the road,” both of the children chorused - Maribelle happily, Marcus with a more grumpy tone. He’d been complaining lately that he was old enough to cross the road on his own now. The only reason that he still played along was because Derek had asked him to for the sake of his sister.

“Exactly,” Derek said with a smile. He leaned in and kissed Maribelle’s forehead which was received much better than the same action for Marcus. At least Evan didn’t complain though, just happily reaching for his father from his stroller. Derek was so caught up in his kids that he almost reached for Stiles as he stood. He got a hand out to pull the other man closer but managed to stop short before he actually touched him. It was there though, lurking in the air between them, and Derek watched as Stiles swallowed hard then looked away. 

“Don’t give all the the candy to the first five kids. No matter how cute they are.” 

“Right, got it,” Derek said with a nod, crossing his arms and keeping his hands in his armpits to keep from dragging Stiles closer again. The gap between them felt like the Grand Canyon, miles wide and deep, with no real easy way across. “Have fun tonight,” he added, but it was mostly for Stiles, not the kids. 

“Well, yeah. It’s Halloween,” Stiles said with his best smile, but Derek saw that it didn’t quite go all the way to his eyes. He didn’t say anything though as the troop of superheroes for the night left and the house felt cold all over again. 

\----

Marcus was walking few steps ahead of the group, leading the way to houses, already carrying a mostly full bag of candy when he looked back at Stiles who was pushing the stroller with one hand and holding Maribelle’s with the other. “Hey Stiles, are you and dad fighting?” he asked, as innocently as he could, but he seemed a little more clued into things than he normally would have. 

“Fighting? No - no, we’re not fighting!” Stiles said, quickly, but not quickly enough as Maribelle looked up at him, all wide eyes and horrified expression. “Really, sweetheart, we’re not,” he promised her.

“Then why’ve things been weird with you two? And you’ve been out a lot - we don’t see you any more,” Marcus pressed, making Stiles wish he’d just be quiet. He couldn’t say that though - Marcus wasn’t trying to be mean, or difficult. He was just a child asking questions.

“You’re not always there to read me a bedtime story anymore,” Maribelle said in a small voice. Stiles sighed and diverted the little group to sit on a bench at the side of the road, one child on either side of him and Evan’s stroller out in front. He wasn’t sure where to start, how to explain what it was like to want something from someone who didn’t want to give it back even if you were sure it was there, lurking below the surface. It had to be there. Letting out a sigh, he looked at all three kids before he started talking. 

“You know how we talked a while back that there’s stuff your dad is good at doing better than I am? It’s like that. Your dad, he’s your dad. He should do bedtime stories and all those things, so I’m letting him. He’s better at it you know.” It was such an awful lie, even as he said it he didn’t believe it, but how could he tell them the truth? They wouldn’t understand. 

Maribelle was shaking her head, shifting to her knees to wrap her arms around his arm and press herself close. “That’s not true Stiles. You’re just as good. You’re better. Even Daddy says so. He can’t do the voices.” 

“We don’t want you to stop Stiles,” Marcus insisted, also tugging on his other arm, but refraining from curling around it. 

It left Stiles with an ache in his heart, shaking his head. “I’m not going to stop guys. Promise. I’m not. I’m not going anywhere. I’m always gonna be here for you, you know that.” 

“And here for Dad,” Marcus added and Stiles both wanted to kiss him and scream in frustration. 

“And there for Dad,” Stiles agreed, but he had to force the words out. For a long moment they just sat there, Stiles trying to shove his emotions away, trying not to think of Derek’s hand halfway to him, what Derek might have been thinking or might have done if he hadn’t stopped himself. 

“Stiles, can we go get more candy?” Marcus asked after a moment and Stiles shook the ache away, jumping up and pulling them with him. 

“Of course we can! We have to get through the whole neighborhood! Let’s do this!” 

“Yay!” Maribelle cried, jumping down off the bench with a wide smile, easily shrugging off the moment, distracted by the thought of candy.

“I’m gonna eat all of my candy tonight!” Marcus declared. 

“Me too!” chimed in Maribelle, eager to keep pace with her big brother.

“Oh no - not happening guys! Two pieces of candy, max, for you guys. No more tonight or you’re gonna be sugar-rush monsters and me and your dad are never gonna get to sleep. And you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Aww, Stiles!” both kids complained. 

“Those are the rules. Two pieces of candy when we get home. Now, I see Pop’s house coming up - should we go see if he’s in?” Stiles asked, pointing toward the house he was raised in.

“Bet I can ring the door before you, Mari,” Marcus said, setting off down the street, his sister running at his heels to the familiar house. Stiles sighed and steeled himself for the rest of the evening. Things hadn’t been meant to be this complicated. Then again, he’d never thought things would end up like this when he’d started.

\-----

By the time they’d gotten home, plans to eat all their candy was long forgotten. Marcus was stumbling tired, half holding on to the stroller for the support, Evan was out cold under a little blanket and Maribelle was in Stiles’ arms, face pressed against his neck as she snoozed softly. Derek met them at the door, freeing Stiles of Maribelle and Marcus, giving the boy a nudge towards the stairs and following after him, leaving Stiles with just Evan to get dressed for bed and put down. Despite there being heaps of candy now sitting on the dining room table, it was one of the quickest bed times in months, everyone willingly getting into pjs and into bed. Derek had hurried through getting two kids down, but by the time he was done, Stiles had already closed himself into his room. He sighed while he looked at the door, not sure what to do, and as much as he wanted to knock, he let that go and headed downstairs instead, back to sitting alone with Netflix until he passed out on the couch. 

Stiles had shut the door, changed into pajamas and was already on his computer when someone knocked on the door and opened it. He’d expected Derek, maybe some plea to come downstairs, eat something, or whatever. Of course, Derek hadn’t knocked on his door in weeks, but there was always that hope. What Stiles hadn’t expected was Marcus, letting himself into the room and crawling up on Stiles’ bed. “You okay little man?” Stiles asked, turning his chair to face the bed and the boy. 

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling down. He didn’t look at Stiles - instead, he hung his head and looked down, as though his fingers were the most fascinating things ever.

“Marc - you okay, buddy?” Stiles asked again, his tone concerned now. Usually Marcus was pretty straightforward about things.

Marcus shrugged, lifting his shoulders, then dropping them again. Stiles got up from his chair and went to sit next to the kid. “This about the candy?” he asked, carefully, really worried now. There was clearly something wrong.

“Ntboutcndy,” Marcus mumbled, picking at his pajama pants.

“Okay - do you… Do you want me to go get your dad?” Stiles asked him, glancing toward the door.

Marcus looked up at that. “You know he’s not _actually_ my dad, right?” he shot, surprising Stiles, who didn’t know how to react to that. He was sure that the shock of the sudden question showed in his face, as he picked his jaw up off the floor. “Because he’s not,” Marcus continued. “My dad left. Like my mom left. I don’t even really remember my real dad. He left before Maribelle was even born and then after there was Evan, mom packed us up and she brought us to Derek and then she left. But Derek’s only Evan’s dad. He’s not ours.”

“He loves you though,” Stiles said, jumping to Derek’s defence, and wanting to make sure Marcus knew that. They all always needed to know that.

“Yeah, I know,” Marcus said, looking down at his hands again. “He’s great - he’s been more like a dad to me than my real dad.”

Stiles frowned, confused and not sure where Marcus was going with this. “So… what’s the problem, buddy?” he pressed, carefully.

Marcus looked round at Stiles, like he thought the grown up was some kind of an idiot and it should be obvious. “Derek’s not my dad.”

“Yeah, got the memo on that one,” Stiles said, making a ‘help a guy out here’ gesture.

“And you’re not my dad either.”

Ow. Stiles didn’t actually realise just how much hearing those words out of Marcus’ mouth would hurt. Sure, it was true and everyone had all but said it over the last few months, but to have it put that bluntly? Stiles just swallowed, pushing down the feelings he couldn’t show in front of a child. “No, I’m not.” He felt proud at the fact that he actually managed to get the words out, even though his voice sounded thick.

“But you’re still my dad too.”

Stiles frowned at that, looking at Marcus with as much of a confused face as he’d ever given the kids. “What?” This should be easier to understand, but Stiles wasn’t quite getting it. He couldn’t figure out what Marcus was trying to say. 

“You’re my dad too. Even if you’re not really my dad.” Marcus’ tone was dangerously close to speaking slowly like Stiles was a baby or a moron, but after a moment what Marcus was saying sunk in. 

“I know you think that buddy, but I’m not really…” Stiles started, falling back on the argument that he’d been given for the past few months, the feeling he got from Derek. 

“That’s not true though Stiles!” 

Marcus was insisting and Stiles was swallowing hard again to keep from crying or something worse because he couldn’t lose his shit in front of Marcus and likely wind up sobbing about how it wasn’t what Derek wanted and no matter what the kids wanted, Derek was the final say. “I’m sorry Marc. I know… I know what you’re thinking, and I’m always going to be here, but it’s not the same.” 

Marcus’ expression turned confused, his brow furrowing. “But why?” he asked.

“Because…” Stiles started, but he had nothing, other than ‘because it’s what Derek wants’. “Derek’s your legal guardian now. They - there were papers signed and everything. He’s got responsibility for you.”

“But you do just as much as he does,” Marcus pointed out.

“It’s not the same buddy,” Stiles said, really wishing that Marcus would just accept that, because keeping it together was getting harder the more that Marcus kept at the one thing that Stiles wanted more than almost anything.

“I don’t care about a dumb piece of paper and Maribelle doesn’t either. We talk about it, you know. You’re our dad as well. So you should stop acting like you’re not and just be our dad,” Marcus declared, finally getting to the point. “Mari misses her bedtime story and I miss going to the park. It used to just be you and me. It was cool. I don’t like it that you bring Uncle Scott, or Aunt Lydia - or that you say you can’t make it and I have to go sit and watch Maribelle do her dumb ballet lessons with Derek. It sucks.”

“Hey, language,” Stiles said, automatically, even though it was hardly an admonishment, the way he was talking through the lump in his throat. How had they noticed? He’d done his best to make sure it was fine, that they were still getting what they needed. Stiles did his best to swallow the lump back and wound up nodding. “We’ll go to the park soon. As soon as it’s not too cold. Maybe this weekend.” He was going to have to talk to Derek wasn’t he? Maybe they could work out some times when Derek wasn’t home and Stiles could be with the kids. Maybe he could get Derek a date or a life. “You should be in bed. School tomorrow.” Anything to avoid it. Everything to avoid it. 

Marcus gave him a look, ready to pout again, ready to start into something new, but Stiles found something stern in him just to end the conversation. He couldn't do more. More would result in him breaking down and that would get them nowhere. “Bed Marcus. I’ll make sure I’m around more. Promise.” 

Marcus made a face again but he nodded and then abruptly threw his arms around Stiles’ neck, almost bowling them both backwards. “Don’t forget, the park this weekend. Promise.” 

Stiles nodded and clenched part of the comforter in his hand to keep his emotions in check. “I won’t forget. Promise. We’ll have a blast.” That was enough to get Marcus to head back to his room, leaving Stiles alone in his. He sat still for a moment before he got up and locked the door, pressing his back against the door and the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

\-----

Derek frowned, looking around, confused. He’d gotten home from a lunch meeting to find Stiles sitting alone on the couch, clearly waiting for him. “Where are the kids?” he asked. The house was scarily quiet.

“I asked my dad to take them for the night. We - need to talk,” Stiles told him, a determined look on his face. 

Derek raised a brow. “So - you’re actually going to be talking to me now?”

Stiles was going to protest but Derek was right, he’d been avoiding talking to him. So instead of protesting or squibbling over small stuff, he was pushing forward with the conversation. “The kids have noticed we’re fighting. So we either need to fix something or work out a better schedule so they don’t notice as much or they at least think things are getting better.” Stiles produced a calendar for the week he’d been putting together and handed it over to Derek. It had times where they did certain things with the kids, nights that Derek had off and just Stiles was with the kids. “I worked in some time for you date or get a hobby or whatever.” 

Derek took the piece of paper, not looking at it and setting it aside to put his bag down and shrug out of his coat. “This isn’t talking. This is you giving me a schedule.” And if Stiles wanted to talk, Derek wanted to have the conversation. “Why are you avoiding me?” 

“I told you, I’m taking a step back. I just don’t want the children to suffer because of it. Which is why…” He reached past Derek to pick up the schedule and handed it to him once more, huffing in annoyance when Derek didn’t take it.

“I know what you said, Stiles. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Why are you avoiding me?”

“Jeez, really? Fine! You’re a single parent, Derek. Single, as in alone. As in all of… this-” Stiles gestured around, including himself. “-my part in this? Doesn’t mean anything. I’m just…” He broke off, shaking his head and not meeting Derk’s gaze, knowing the other man was just staring at him. “Doesn’t matter, but the kids noticed.”

“What do you mean your part means nothing? And since when does single mean alone? I mean I can still have friends right? Scott, Lydia, your dad. _You_. If your part in this didn’t mean anything you’d still be living with your dad.” Derek shook his head and reached for the schedule, looking at it but not really looking at it. “You’re just what?” 

Stiles looked at Derek then, relieved that his eyes weren’t on Stiles anymore which made it easier to think. “I’m just Stiles,” Stiles said. “That’s all.” 

Derek raised his eyes over the piece of paper, watching Stiles for a moment then crumpling the piece of paper into a ball. “You are. And that’s all that matters. Stop avoiding me. Let’s just go back to normal.” 

Stiles opened his mouth to protest the destruction of the schedule it had taken him all day to put together. It was a carefully crafted work of art that gave everyone the maximum amount of quality time and Derek had just ruined it without a second though. In the end though, he just sighed at its demise. “You’re an ass, you know that,” he said, though his tone was resigned.

“And you’ve been avoiding me for months. I hate this Stiles. Let’s go back to normal. Please. It’s not the same without you. The kids miss you,” Derek told him. There was a hesitation, and then he added, in a far more tentative tone, “I miss you.”

Stiles thought, for a moment, that he’d stopped breathing. “You do?” he asked, his eyes widening, unable to tear his gaze away from Derek.

“It’s… Lonely. You get home and you lock yourself in your room. I barely see you. I eat alone. Watch TV that’s not the same without someone to share what’s going on with.” 

Stiles had definitely stopped breathing. With just that he was backwards, right where he’d always been, desperate for an off hand touch, a light tease, or one of those quiet, barely there things that Derek did for him when he wasn’t looking. “Okay. I’ll stop.” His voice wasn’t what he wanted it to be, too breathy. “I mean I’ll stop avoiding. I’m sorry.” 

Derek felt the relief wash over him, but he was never good at showing that, or much of anything. So when Stiles said he’d stop avoiding? He could only manage a little smile and a nod. “Good. I’m sorry too. Don’t think you’re not important.” He patted Stiles’ arm lightly then moved towards the kitchen. “You want dinner?” 

That was it. That was all of it. He was practically melting and Derek just wanted to make dinner. Stiles was a sucker, he really was, because now that he’d agreed to it, he couldn’t back down. He’d let his mind shift to that, to being around Derek again and now it was all he wanted. “Um. Sure. Dinner sounds good. Do you want to cook or just order something? Odds are Dad’s ordering pizza for the kids. So we could be lazy.” 

Derek considered that, then tilted his head, shrugging one shoulder. “Um - I could go for that Thai place,” he suggested. “Or - we could eat out? Then maybe catch a movie? That one you kept talking about earlier on in the year was released last week, wasn’t it? We could go see that if you’d like.”

Stiles winced, baring his teeth and screwing up his eyes. “I…. Kinda saw that one last week with Scott,” he said, awkwardly. 

“Oh, right - nevermind. We can just order in,” Derek said, turning away and going to hunt out the menu.

“No! I mean - I don’t mind seeing it again. It was really good. It’s cool, really,” Stiles exclaimed, stumbling over his words even as he scrambled up off the couch to grab his jacket. “So we should totally do that. Really.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m not going to make you go to a movie that you already saw. I wasn’t even that interested in it. I just knew you wanted to see it.” He watched Stiles get his coat, which just left Derek hesitating. “How about just dinner. We can pick up the kids before they really wear your dad out.” 

Stiles wanted to protest, but at least he was getting dinner. And it was his fault Derek wasn’t going to the movie. Derek just wanted to go for him and he seriously could kick himself for screwing up his chance at a nice evening out with Derek. “Dinner works,” he said finally. “And saving Dad. He’ll protest, but probably crash after we leave.” It was like dating but worse. How was he supposed to date his roommate, his other best friend, without trying to be his boyfriend? “Coming?” he asked, from the door, keys in hand. 

Derek knew it shouldn’t hurt, that they were starting over really and those overlaps were going to happen, but it still hurt. “Yeah I’m coming.” 

\-------

Stiles wasn’t sure what was wrong. Just that Derek had been at work and Evan wasn’t breathing right and after reading everything on the internet, the best answer he had was the ER. Something was wrong, really wrong. They took Evan immediately, handed Stiles paperwork to fill out and asked him to sit. He was jumping, but Melissa was nowhere in sight and the woman behind the counter didn’t know him. She also wasn’t amused at the fact that all of Evan’s paperwork called out Derek as his guardian and not Stiles. She was a bitch, but she’d relegated Stiles to the waiting room because Evan was still being looked at and Stiles wasn’t family. Which meant he wasn’t allowed beyond the double doors where they’d taken Evan. 

The best he could do was call Derek to leave as soon as he could and his dad who would get Marcus and Maribelle from school, take them back to the house to make sure they were safe, but that was it. He was left in a waiting room, pacing and practically pulling his hair out. At least until the the doors opened and just the person he’d been waiting for was walking through the doors. Derek, face set in stone and anger. Stiles let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god, you’re here,” Stiles said once Derek was at his side, his panic spilling out. “They took him, but they won’t let me see him because I’m not actually family and I’m not sure what’s going on and…” Stiles trailed off before he could say he was scared but it didn’t matter, it was in his voice. 

“That’s why you’re out here?” Derek practically barked. “Instead of back there with Evan? They wouldn’t let you back?” The larger man didn’t even wait for Stiles to answer before he caught hold of Stiles’ elbow and half walked him, half dragged him to the desk. Derek proceeded to stare down the nurse, who seemed to attempt to stand up to the glare for a moment, before backing down. “This is Stiles Stilinski. I want it noted against Evan Hale’s records that Stiles is family and if Evan’s ever admitted here, for _anything_ , then Stiles is allowed wherever, understand.”

"I’m sorry, sir, but…”

“ _Understand_ ,” Derek growled out as Stiles extricated himself from the hold and straightened his clothes. 

“What he said,” Stiles said, pointing at Derek as the nurse nodded and started to type at the computer, to update the records. “Oh, and, while you’re doing that, you may as well make the same notes for Marcus and Maribelle Blake,” he added, leaning over the counter to check that was actually being done. 

Derek, though, barely spared him a glance, his attention still on the nurse, anger exuding from every pore. “Now - where is our son.”

Stiles completely blamed the way his knees buckled a little at the word ‘our’ on how long of an afternoon he’d had, on the panic and fear that Evan might be really sick, not at all on the fact that it was the best thing he’d ever heard in his entire life. He caught the edge of the counter, using that to hold himself up as the nurse got up from her desk. She wasn’t happy about taking them back to where Evan was, but at least they were going, both of them. Derek a giant ball of angry and Stiles trying to stay out of the reach of his wrath. 

Thankfully, the doctor was there once they were showed the plastic box they’d stuck Evan in to help with his breathing, and the doctor explained to Derek what was wrong. It wasn’t anything that was end of the world, but it was good that Stiles had gotten him to the hospital when he did. Stiles had stood off to the side, watching Evan who was at least sleeping and didn’t look as pained as he’d been earlier. 

When Derek was back at his side, his anger was gone and he was left looking beat down and just as scared as Stiles had been. Stiles didn’t let himself think about it as he reached for the older man, one hand on his arm to pull him closer. “He’s gonna be okay,” Stiles said, trying to sound serious. 

Derek turned and rested his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder, aware of Stiles’ arm resting across his back. He just let himself be for a moment, before he straightened back up again. “They think so, yes,” he said, looking back toward the oxygen tent. “He’s so small,” Derek said with barely a whisper. “I… I always thought that if we ended up here, it’d be because Marcus fell off his bike, or, I don’t know, Maribelle got appendicitis. I wasn’t ready for anything to happen to Evan. He’s too little.”

“Maybe he takes after me then.” Stiles was trying for humor, even if, in no way, was Evan taking after him, but he couldn’t just let Derek stand there looking so miserable. “How long do they want to keep him?” he asked.

“Overnight at least, maybe a couple of days.”

“I’ve already talked to my dad. He’s gonna pick M and M up from school. I’ll give him another call, he can make arrangements to make sure they’re looked after. Lydia and Scott can pitch in. It’d scare them to see Evan in that box, so maybe it’s not a great idea that they come visit…”

Derek looked across at Stiles, frowning. Stiles paused in his ramble. “What? You know that we’d both be a mess if we went home right now. We’d just… imprint that mess onto everyone else. So, we make plans like we’re staying and take it from there,” he said, as if that were the most obvious thing.

“You don’t have to…”

Stiles cut Derek off before he could even finish the stop. “Don’t say that. You just permanently scarred some nurse downstairs and probably got us added to some ‘freakshow family’ list as well as the ‘don’t instigate, he bites’ list just to get me up here and you are not sending me anywhere. I’m not leaving you alone in this. Dad can handle the kids for a couple of days with Lydia and Scott on the assist. Promise.” 

Derek stared at Stiles for a long moment then reached out for him, hand against the back of Stiles’ neck, just a soft reassuring squeeze, acknowledging that Stiles was there for him and not running off to take care of the kids like Derek thought he might. “Okay then. Call your dad.” 

Stiles felt color creep into his cheeks at the touch and moved out of it as quickly as he could, just to cover up the blush. “Right. Going to do that. Sit. I’ll be back in a bit.” Probably longer than the phonecall. Maybe he’d get them coffee or a soda or something. Just long enough to get the warmth that seemed to be coursing through his veins out of his system. Then he could go back in there for Derek.


	4. Holidays

“Little help here please“ Stiles called as he waddled his way in from the garage. His voice was muffled behind a huge turkey, and he was weighed down by several bags hanging from each arm. He breathed a sigh of relief as the bird was taken from him. 

“Don’t say a word,” Derek said, balancing the turkey in one arm and then taking more of the bags from Stiles. “It was your bright idea to volunteer our house for Thanksgiving.” 

“Yes, but...” 

“ _And_ then to insist that we have to do it, quote-unquote properly. With all the trimmings.” 

“Right, but…“ 

“And to decide that ’bring a dish’ wasn’t going to work for you, because ’what if someone forgot, Derek?’ or ’didn’t make enough, Derek?’. You wanted this. This was the agreement. You want this - you do the grocery shopping.” 

Stiles managed to wince and smile winningly at the same time. “But - you’re gonna help me with the cooking, right?“ 

Derek chuckled. “Maribelle and I have already started on the cranberry sauce, and Marcus is peeling potatoes.” 

“See!“ Stiles moved in closer to Derek flashing a smile right at his jaw. He did more of that now. Being closer. They were better at being around each other. They were back in their groove again. Dinner together after the kids went to bed, TV in the evenings, and no more late night visits from Marcus. “You’re excited. You wanted this too.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and took another bag from Stiles, helping him get everything into the kitchen. “I never said I wanted to be responsible for it,” he clarified, but was already handing Stiles his apron and putting groceries away. 

“Whatever. We knew we were going to host. Because we have the biggest house,” Stiles corrected, leaning over to see what Maribelle was working on, then grabbing the rest of the potatoes he’d picked up, washing them quickly to hand them to Marcus. “Plus this is fun. We’re making traditions.” Which was the whole point anyway. Solidifying them as a family. “Now, come over here and be all manly and help me with this giant turkey.” 

If he rolled his eyes anymore, they were going to wind up in the back of his head, but that was the fun part for Stiles, making Derek make that face, so he went where instructed, helping Stiles prep the turkey to go in the oven. 

\----- 

Derek walked into the living room, where Stiles was spread out of the couch, looking very much like he would have trouble moving ever again. “Trouble?“ he asked, sitting down at the other end of the couch and handing the other man a beer. 

“I don’t know where they get the energy,” Stiles moaned, looking pained. He let his head fall to the side, so he could look at Derek. “And, seriously - this is _me_ saying that, but they were both so excited for tomorrow that they wouldn’t settle. I swear - Mari was literally jumping on her bed at one point, singing some song about turkey that they learned at school.” 

“I hate the turkey song. I’ve considered petitioning the PTA to have it removed from music class,” Derek said rolling his eyes. The kids had been out for two days and Maribelle had been singing it every spare moment. “Want me to keep them from waking you up tomorrow, let you sleep in?“ 

Stiles hummed a few bars of the turkey song and shook his head. “I think we sang it when I was a kid too. It’ll never go away.” He looked aghast at the offer of sleeping in though. “Sleep in! I’ll miss the parade! I can’t miss the parade. And don’t look at me like that,” he said when Derek made a face. “It’s a big deal. You’ll see.” 

Derek shook his head and rolled his eyes again, but the smirk was there, forever amused by Stiles. The smirk faded a little though as Stiles turned on the couch, stretching out so his feet were pressed against Derek’s thigh. “What about you? What are you looking forward to?“ 

“Not looking forward to cleaning up afterward,” Derek said, grinning a little as Stiles playfully kicked him. 

“That wasn’t the question,” Stiles said poking him in the thigh again. “Come on, grumpy. You’re looking forward to something, I just know you are.” 

Derek caught Stiles’ foot and pulled it into his lap, absently starting to massage the base. “Family,” he said, quietly. “I’m looking forward to family. We always had a full house when I was growing up. I got used to the noise, the-“ He smiled to himself. “-the chaos. Everything’s been so quiet for so long. Then there were the kids… It’s like - it’s meant to be like this, y’know?“ 

Stiles just barely managed to suppress the gasp when Derek had his foot and his thumb pressed into the sole. He was trying hard to concentrate on what Derek was saying and not what he was doing, but half failed. “If you’re so fine with chaos you get the next nightmare bedtime,” Stiles teased, but he got it. “I got used to the quiet too. Of course even with Mom around it was really the three of us. But I like this better than I ever liked the quiet.” 

“I didn’t know what quiet was, growing up. Mom, dad, my sisters, uncles, aunt, cousins… Then, all of a sudden…“ 

Stiles was up, shifting round and pulling himself to sit next to Derek before he could even finish that sentence. “Hey, I know, I know,” he said, soothingly, a hand on Derek’s arm and his other not quite resting round his shoulders. 

Derek was quiet, letting himself get cut off because he didn’t want to talk about it anyway. “You do know don’t you?“ Derek could only imagine how the Stilinski family holidays changed after Stiles’ mother had succumbed to her illness. He was also very aware of Stiles’ hands on him, of being close to being held, which wasn’t entirely like them. At least not since the hospital. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Stiles shifted closer, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “So we’ll make it better. Now that we’re together.” 

Derek was finding it hard to think. Everything suddenly seemed so close, like there was a decision to be made. He panicked and blurted out, “As a family.” 

It was enough to get Stiles to pull back slightly, lifting his chin off Derek’s shoulder and turning so they were merely sat side by side. “As a family, yeah,” Stiles agreed. There was a moment, then he added, “Dad called. He said he’s bringing pie. I said he didn’t need to, but apparently it’s a thing. Mom had a recipe. I... never even knew. So - you better like my dad’s pie,” he threatened, with a smile in his tone. No matter what, they were building a family. 

“Your dad carries a gun. I’m going to like the pie,” Derek said, able to think a little clearer but glad that Stiles was still close. “Plus it’s pie. Who doesn’t like pie?“ 

\------ 

The bustle was probably the best part. All the people, people reaching for food, people helping in the kitchen. More than once, Derek found himself pressed close to Stiles, in the kitchen, the living room, dining room, and it didn’t bother him. It was nice, they were back in smiles, okay with knowing one another’s space, knowing how to be around one another. It was Scott that cornered him though, catching him alone in the living room. “So things are better?“ Scott asked, smiling like it was his doing. “Because he calls me a lot less.” 

“They are. We talked when he stopped avoiding me.” It was start. They’d talked about how important Stiles was, how he needed to stay and how Derek needed him too. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And it had fixed things for now. 

“Good, because you know, he’s my best friend and I hate to see him miserable like that. I’d been trying to get him to talk to you for weeks, and then after the whole thing on Halloween with Marcus…“ 

“What thing on Halloween?“ Derek questioned, interrupting Scott. 

Scott looked surprised. “You know - the fact that Marcus went to Stiles and told him that he considered both of you his dads and it didn’t matter to him and Maribelle that neither of you were.” 

The look on Derek’s face said clearly that he hadn’t known. Stiles hadn’t brought it up, even if it wasn’t long after that that Stiles had actually managed to talk to him, or at least show up with that schedule of time with the kids. Derek crossed his arms over his chest, looking towards where Stiles was, even though he couldn’t see him. “Marcus is right. I guess we are.” And he kept referring to Stiles as just Stiles. Even the kids called him that. They’d only recently stopped calling Derek by his first name all the time. Maybe that was where he’d gone wrong. 

“Yeah, I guess you probably are,” Scott said in a tone that caught Derek’s attention. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Scott, intently. 

“You knew Stiles hadn’t told me, didn’t you?“ he questioned, pulling Scott further away from everyone else, even though they were pretty much on their own anyhow. “You knew he hadn’t said, but you told me anyway.” 

The lack of guilt on Scott’s face said everything Derek needed to know, his actual words only confirmed it. “I’ve known Stiles since we were in kindergarten - he can be a real idiot at times. He wouldn’t tell you something like that, even though you need to know. You have a _right_ to know who your kids look to for parenting if it’s not you. And you should know that he matters -“ Derek looked aghast. Of course Stiles mattered - had there ever really been any question about that? Scott continued on anyway, ignoring the look. “-That he _matters_. If nothing else, to the children. He’s not second class here, not where it counts. Not by a long way. But he’s trying not to overstep. He’s scared that he’ll... hurt your feelings. So, I’m glad you’ve got at least that much sorted out.” 

“What happened to ‘if he won’t tell you, then I won’t’?“ Derek asked him. 

“Just filling in the pieces, Derek. It’s up to you guys to do the rest.” 

“Is there something else I’m missing?“ Derek asked, feeling like Scott was talking like there was more that still needed to be figured out between himself and Stiles. As far as Derek was concerned they were in a good place. Stiles was aware that he mattered and Derek would deal with the ’other dad’ part as well, though he felt like that had been dealt with when Evan got sick. Stiles was family. He’d made that clear. 

“Maybe. But that I’m definitely not telling you about that.” Scott knew it was there, but Stiles hadn’t admitted to it and as far as Scott was concerned, he was steering very clear of the issue. It was too weird at thing to think of them as more than what they were even if it seemed clear that something was going on between them. 

“So we’re back to waiting on him to tell me?“ Derek looked annoyed. 

“Or for you to figure it out, I guess,” Scott said, easily. Derek glared at him, open mouthed - to which Scott just smiled and headed into the kitchen. Derek didn’t follow him - he was sick of people talking around subjects instead of just being honest and straightforward. If Stiles was playing games and keeping things from him, then he would be in for a shock, because Derek wasn’t going to rise to it. He was just going to keep on with the way things were and ignore the fact there could be anything else. So, when Stiles stuck his head out from the kitchen and called him for a hand with serving pie, Derek gave him a smile and went, willingly. 

\----- 

Derek was yet again dressed in something Stiles picked out, standing in a line at the mall, giving the younger man a dirty look. “I’m not going to be in the picture,” he repeated in a low whisper, not wanting to upset the kids who were literally bouncing with excitement at the prospect of meeting Santa. Derek was starting to think they’d done nothing like this with their mother, and whilst it was annoying to hear all the crying and chatter of housewives, Derek was glad they were getting these kind of memories. 

“Hush. You are. We need the whole family. Plus we practiced this. You just sort of look away.” Stiles had stalked Derek with his phone camera for over a week, trying to take the perfect picture that Derek didn’t ruin. 

“You practiced. I was unwilling.” Derek had grumbled through the whole thing just like he was now, but he hadn’t actually told Stiles to stop. Stiles was too excited to tell him to stop. 

Stiles knocked his shoulder against Derek’s and grinned. “You’re always unwilling,” he teased, bending down to point out the candy cane display to Maribelle, before straightening back up and continuing. “It’s an angle thing. You need to look aside at least forty eight degrees and that’ll cancel out the lens flare.” 

“I’ll look ridiculous,” Derek said in monotone as he reached to stop Marcus ducking under the rope to go play on the mechanical swingset the mall had set out as part of the Santa display. “Like I’ve been distracted by something. Let’s just get a picture of the kids and use that.” 

“It’s a _family_ Christmas card, Derek. Now that we’ve finally defined that, I think the least we can do is stand by it!“ 

“It’s entirely unnecessary to send out Christmas cards in the first place. Who are we going to send them to? Peter? He doesn’t care. Do you really want to explain... _this_ to everyone?“ Derek sounded more annoyed than he really was, but that was because Marcus had made a dash for it again and now he was holding the kid by the collar. 

“Who cares? We are _this_ and they’ll get over it.” Stiles made a face moving the stroller forward as the line moved. “And yes. One to Peter. They’re his great niece and nephews. And Dad and Scott and Lydia. Your sister. Everyone.” 

“Fine - then I’ll stare at the damn camera. Everyone on our list knows what that means anyway,” Derek growled. 

“Derek,” Stiles whined dragging his name out, then fishing in his pocket for his phone. “Look. You don’t look ridiculous,” he said pulling up the pictures and shoving the phone at Derek. “You look like you were meant to have your picture taken.” 

Derek took the phone, frowning at the picture of him, then flipping to the next one. And the next. And three more. “How many pictures did you take? And they’re terrible. Why did you keep them? We should delete them,” Derek insisted, going to do just that. Stiles grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him. 

“No! Don’t,” he exclaimed, taking his phone back with his other hand. 

Derek gave him a long, hard look, brows furrowing. “Why not? You don’t need a whole load of photos of me, at least half of which are ruined and the other half that seem to have been taken when I didn’t even know you were there.” 

“They’re not ruined! They’re experiments,” Stiles explained, using a tone that Derek was fairly sure meant that he was talking out of his ass right now. “If you delete them, then I’m just gonna have to take more when we come up against this situation again.” 

“You just told me the exactly measurement of where my eyes need to be. You don’t need them for reference!“ Derek was all but daring Stiles to tell the truth or come up with a better excuse, though getting out of having his picture taken again was almost enough of a reason to let go of the phone. 

“I have a very specific memory!“ Stiles protested. “And it’s very short term! Come tomorrow I’m gonna have totally forgotten that whole angle thing. Hell, I might have completely forgotten what you look like! Who knows!“ 

“Stiles,” Derek said plainly. “You’re full of crap.” There was a hint if affection in his tone though, shaking his head ever so slightly. He didn’t push deleting the photos. Not if Stiles didn’t want to. 

“Daddy said a bad word,” Maribelle sing-songed from below them. 

“Yes, daddy said a bad word,” Stiles agreed, solemnly, though there was laughter behind his eyes as he looked across at Derek. “Naughty daddy.” He looked down at Maribelle. “What do you think, Pumpkin. Should daddy have to make up for saying a bad word?“ He continued as Maribelle enthusiastically nodded her head, setting the princess tiara she was wearing askew on her curls. “Do you think daddy should have to have his picture taken with us?“ 

“You know that’s cheating right?“ Derek said, trying hard not to let Stiles calling his daughter ‘pumpkin’ take away all of his resolve. “Can’t daddy just have a picture of all his kids?“ Two could play at that game. 

Maribelle was a big fan of Derek in the picture though, which meant she was attaching herself to his leg, nodding emphatically. “Yes daddy yes! You need to be in the picture!“ 

“Stiles should have to make up for cheating,” Derek grumbled as he reached down to scoop Maribelle up. She was getting too big for it, but it didn’t really bother him, lifting her, so he kept doing it and fixed the tiara with one hand. 

Maribelle giggled, reaching for Stiles. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward them so she didn’t have to leave Derek’s arm. “Yes! Stiles has to be in the picture too!“ she declared, to the triumphant glee of a now off-balance Stiles. 

“Your daughter has spoken, _daddy_ ,” he teased. “And how can you say no to that face? That adorable face!“ 

Without thinking about it, Derek’s hand went out to steady the off-balanced Stiles, catching his hip and holding on to him for a moment. He wasn’t sure which face Stiles meant, because with him as close as Maribelle had pulled him, Derek was having trouble taking his eyes off Stiles. “Stiles already wants to be in the picture. His punishment should be telling me what he wants for Christmas.” Since Derek hadn’t figured that out himself yet. Or what was allowed. 

“But, daddy,” Maribelle said, drawing out the word. “Saying what presents you want isn’t a _punishment_.” 

“Right, what - what she said,” Stiles said, wide-eyed and blinking. “I - why is telling you what I want for Christmas a punishment anyway? And - I don’t know, I mean, that is... What do _you_ want?“ 

“Oh no, no flipping it back around,” Derek told him, though he let go of Stiles and carefully set Maribelle back down on the floor as they nearer the head of the line. What he actually meant, what he wasn’t saying was that he didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to be the one to set the scale of what was appropriate for two guys platonically raising children together to get each other for Christmas. 

“Yeah well what if I said I wanted the moon or a spaceship or another kid? Those are ridiculous things,” Stiles said. “What if all you want to get me is a sweater. Just pick something.” 

“You can’t have another,” Derek said sternly. “We have more than enough. But I wasn’t just going to get you a sweater. Unless you wanted one.” 

Stiles pursed his lips into an impish grin. “Don’t know if you’d even noticed this, but I’m not really a sweater type guy,” he teased. 

“Fine then!“ Derek exclaimed. “I’ll get you a flannel shirt, if that’s what you want.” 

“Aww, what - so I can’t have a spaceship?“ 

“I’m gonna ask Santa for a spaceship!“ Maribelle announced, determinedly. 

“Of course you are,” Derek said, indulging her, even though she’d changed her mind at least five times since they’d joined the line. 

“You can’t have a spaceship!“ Marcus declared. “You’re a girl! Girls can’t go into space!“ 

“Spass!“ Evan declared from his stroller, clearly deciding the conversation needed his input. 

Stiles made a face elbowing Marcus. “What does being a girl have to do with being able to go into space. Plenty of girls have already gone into space.” 

Derek ran his hand over his face, wondering for the millionth time how he wound up here. “Everyone gets a spaceship then.” 

“David says girls can’t do anything like that,” Marcus explained. 

“Yes, well your friend David has obviously never met your Aunt Lydia,” Stiles pointed out. “Girls can do anything boys can do, backwards and in heels.” 

Derek stared at Stiles. “Did you just quote Ginger Rogers?“ he asked. 

“Yes, I did.” 

“I think we need to start limiting the amount of time you spend with Aunt Lydia,” Derek told Stiles with a roll of his eyes. “She rubbing off on you.” 

Stiles just grinned as their turn in line came up and he bearded them towards Santa, which had turned the kids attention away from their parents. “You should tell me what you want,” Derek said. 

Stiles was snapping pictures with his camera before looking up at Derek. “You don’t have to get me anything. But if you do you have to tell me what to get you.” 

“I do have to get you something. It’s Christmas. You’re...you.” 

Stiles gave him a look of mock surprise, mouth hanging open. “No shit. Wow, buddy, thanks for clearing that one up for me. I always wondered who I was.” 

“You’re not funny, you know,” Derek said, looking entirely unimpressed. 

“Yes I am, I’m hilarious,” Stiles responded, turning back to where Maribelle was telling Santa with wide gestures she’d clearly picked up from Stiles what she wanted for Christmas. Stiles snapped a few more shots. “You don’t have to get me anything, just because you feel obliged.” 

Derek growled in frustration, a low, quiet noise, but still one that caused Stiles to turn and put a hand on his,arm. Part reassurance, part warning. Grounding Derek and reminding him they were out in public. It was shocking how simple a touch could bring Derek back to center, do just as Stiles intended. “I don’t feel obliged,” he finally managed, though his teeth were still a little gritted. 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, hurriedly. “Just... get me something small. Look, we both know our attention are gonna be on spoiling the kids, right. Which, really, we should have an evening talking about that. What do you say? Dad could take this kids and it could be you, me, some beers and a whole load of internet shopping?“ 

Derek nodded. “Just so long as we don’t have to come back here.” The din of the mall and the patter of Christmas carols playing was starting to get to him. 

Stiles squeezed his arm, but it wound up turning into a tug as the kids finished talking to Santa and they were motioned to get in the picture for the full family shot. Derek still wasn’t amused, but he wasn’t fighting it either. It was what Stiles wanted and in the end he always wound up catering to the younger man. 

\----- 

The picture turned out perfectly. 

“See, I told you it would work,” Stiles said, as he sat in front of a small stack of cards. He handed a pile of envelopes to Derek, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table. “I’ll write the cards, you write the envelopes - and stop looking grumpy. You’re just still annoyed because you managed not to ruin the photos.” 

“It was a fluke,” Derek said, taking the envelopes off Stiles and starting to write addresses out in his surprisingly neat, swirling script. 

“It was just meant to be. Face it,” Stiles teased. He picked up the first card and looked at it once again. They couldn’t have got it better if they’d actually been trying. The reality was that it had just been madness. Marcus and Maribelle had been so excited after their meeting with Santa that they’d been climbing all over Stiles as he and Derek had sat on the bench. It had been like trying to control two monkeys. Meanwhile, Evan had been clamouring for Derek’s attention. The result was perfection, in the opinion of everyone who had seen it. The picture showed Stiles laughing and leaning back slightly, as he interacted with the two older kids. It looked like he was leaning into and against Derek, who was turned and looking down at Evan with a smile on his face that was being widely returned by his youngest son. There was no camera flare, no werewolf eyes ruining the entire shot. Just a happy, albeit somewhat unusual, family. 

Derek caught the way Stiles was looking at the picture, pausing mid-address to watch him for a lingering moment. “You know it might not be meant to be again next year.” Of course he’d already gotten extra copies framed - one wrapped up for the Sheriff and one sitting on the mantle in the living room, which made the whole house seem oddly homey. He pulled his eyes away when Stiles looked up, not wanting to be caught staring or slacking on his assigned task. 

“Next year we can be cool Santas - shades all round,” Stiles said. There was an amused and anticipatory look on his face that Derek realised meant that he was just waiting for Derek to protest that there was no way he was ever dressing up in costume. So, he merely arched a brow and ducked his head, going back to writing envelopes. 

There was no way he was going to dress up. They both knew it. Protests were irrelevant. 

“Great, I’ll take that as a yes!“ Stiles declared. “First thing on the order list... Two adults, two children and a toddler’s Santa suits…“ 

Derek’s head shot back up again. Stiles had been meant to drop it. He stared at the other man intently, trying to telegraph that that wasn’t going to be happening. Stiles just sat back in his chair, looking triumphant. “I hate you,” Derek grumbled. 

“Sure you do, big guy. Sure you do.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, “You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.” 

“I was pretty sure I said something small. And the plan for tonight is shopping for the kids. I have their lists they sent to Santa. I figure we can start there then pick out a few other cool things from us and from Santa. Now are you a wrapped presents from Santa or a laid out presents from Santa guy? Because that’s important too.” Stiles was carrying on, anything to avoid answering the question about what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get that, not that he was going to even say it. He just wanted something small that maybe had a little bit of thought put into it. That was it. 

“Wrapped presents,” Derek said, without hesitation. Growing up in a household full of werewolves, tearing the paper off had actually been half the fun of getting presents. One year he and his sisters had actually caused such a mess with flying bits of paper that his mother had joked that it was snowing in the living room. 

“Really? Man. I was laid out. But that might have also been because my dad is easily the worst present wrapper that ever lived. Ever. Just downright terrible at it.” Stiles made a face then nodded. “We can wrap then, see how it goes right?“ He couldn’t see Derek risking papercuts to wrap gifts, but maybe he had the guy wrong. 

“You avoided the question again,” Derek pointed out, but didn’t look up from his work. “And yes, we can. I’m sure it’ll be fine unless you plan on judging me like you do your dad.” 

“Still pretty sure I said something small,” Stiles shot back. “Which means that _you’re_ the one avoiding the question.” 

“As long as you don’t get me one of those stupid awful Christmas sweaters then we’re good,” Derek said, his concentration firmly on finishing off the envelopes. 

“That’s still avoiding. And no. I am not getting you one of those, because you would probably be the only person who managed to look both intimidating and not stupid in one. It would just ruin the whole fun.” Stiles shook his head, concentrating on a few cards more before he spoke again. “Something small though, that makes sense right?“ he asked, looking for confirmation. 

Derek glanced up, then stopped what he was working on to put his focus on Stiles. “I guess.” None of his ideas had been small. Physically small maybe, but not in cost. He felt like the gift had to be a thank you, as well as just doing something nice for Stiles, plus being in the spirit of Christmas. 

“You really don’t even have to give me anything. I mean… this is enough.” The family, the life that seemed to work so well together even if it hardly made sense. “Of course I do like presents soooo…“ 

Derek’s frown deepened. “I didn’t ‘give’ you this,” he pointed out. “You just… showed up one day.” 

“Great - make me sound like a stray dog,” Stiles grumbled, though there was a sense of humor in his tone that cleared the frown off Derek’s expression. 

“Not a stray dog. Definitely not a stray dog. But - this can’t be your present. It can’t.” Derek shook his head, not noticing the way that Stiles had entirely stilled and was staring at him, nervously chewing on the side of a finger, hooked on every word Derek had to say. “I couldn’t have done all of this without you, Stiles. I couldn’t. I know I wouldn’t admit that for the longest time, but it’s the truth. All of this - you deserve more. Not less.” 

Stiles was looked like dying to ask just what ‘more’ might entail, but he managed to bite his tongue to keep from saying it. His next thought was a joke, but he had a guess that would fall short. “I like being here,” he said finally, not feeling like that did it any justice. 

Derek twitched a smile - just an upturning of one corner of his mouth. “I got that, yeah,” he agreed. The moment between them lingered for a moment, before Derek went to finish off the final two envelopes he had. 

More. They were supposed to say more weren’t they? Stiles even opened his mouth to say more, but he wasn’t at all sure what to say and wound up saying nothing at all. 

\----- 

Christmas music played softly in the background. Something more classical, less like the overly produced, obnoxiously happy shit that had been seemingly on repeat until bedtime. Stiles had volunteered for bedtime duty, so Derek had busied himself with tidying up the living area and making it seem more like a place for grownups, and less like Never - Neverland. 

It was Christmas Eve, at last. As much as everyone had Derek down as being miserable, he’d been looking forward to this so much. His first Christmas with his own family. It was the reason he’d insisted (or at least gone along with the very minimum of protest) in covering every possible Christmas tradition. 

Now the kids we’re in bed, he turned down the lights, leaving the living room to be lit by the spectacular tree they’d bought, and opened a bottle of wine. Pouring two glasses, he waited for Stiles to join him after he had finished wrangling the kids into bed. Only Evan seeming ready to go to bed - because he wasn’t aware of what was waiting for him in the morning. The other two were under strict instructions that if they didn’t at least stay in bed after Stiles finish reading ‘The Night Before Christmas’ that Stiles himself would instruct Santa to take all the toys back to the North Pole. 

The tactic mostly seemed to work as Stiles appeared in the living room. “I say we give them at least an hour...oh.” So this was different. This looked very much like something else altogether, a sort of perfect Christmas tree-lit moment and Stiles forgot whatever it was that he had been meaning to say and just stood, staring at the moment that Derek had managed to create while Stiles was upstairs. 

It was rare that Derek could stun Stiles to silence, so he couldn’t help the smile. “You just gonna stand there?“ he asked, holding out the extra glass of wine. 

“Wine? We have wine glasses?“ Stiles took the glass, terrified he’d break it, but at the same time looking at it like it was brand new. 

“We do now,” Derek told him. Stiles wasn’t a big wine drinker, and Derek only liked it for the taste - which meant that if he was drinking wine, then he was drinking expensive wine. Generally they stuck to beer. Tonight was different though. “It’s a Merlot, I think you’ll like it.” 

“...Sure,” Stiles said, still half in shocked as he sat down on the sofa and held the glass like it was some kind of wondrous creature. 

Derek breathed a laugh. “I figured we should have some adult time. Plus, in a few hours, this place is going to be turned into a toy store. I was thinking that maybe we should just go ahead and exchange presents tonight. Then tomorrow can be all about the kids.” 

Stiles was still confused, feeling like this was something far more serious than it was, at least until Derek mentioned presents. That he could definitely handle. He set his glass down without even trying it, jumping up again to rummage under the tree for the gifts he’d bought Derek. He took a moment to arrange them in the proper order then set the boxes down on Derek’s lap triumphantly. “You start,” he said, going back for the wine, but this time pulling one leg up under him and turning on the couch again to see Derek properly. 

Derek looked at the sheer number of parcels that he had been presented with, then back at Stiles. “...How many of these are for the kids?“ he asked. 

“Exactly none of them,” Stiles confirmed, looking pleased with himself. “These are your presents.” Derek thought of his single wrapped box under the tree for Stiles and gave a nervous smile, which Stiles caught. “Oh, it’s just - I didn’t really know what to get you, so I kinda... bought everything.” 

“What happened to small?“ Derek asked, picking up the first box to open it. Already he was fighting urge to just rip through the paper, just for old times sake, but he managed to maintain some decorum. At least until he got it open to reveal a Santa suit. “What the hell?“ 

Stiles smiled over the rim of the glass as he took a sip of the wine. “I thought you could, y’know, put it on and go delivering presents to the kids. We both know that they’ll be awake at a pin drop tonight.” 

Derek looked unimpressed. “Tell me you’re not serious.” 

Stiles fought a giggle, shrugging his shoulder. “Depends on if you were going to do it,” he said, shifting a little closer. Derek continued to stare at him as if he was insane. There was no way Stiles meant it. After a moment of staring at him, Stiles burst into giggles. 

“Open the next one,” he said, tapping the next box and sipping at his wine again. 

Each present Derek opened was more ridiculous than the last, and by the look on Stiles’ face, he knew that. It seemed almost a test to see how far he could push Derek, and whether Derek would break and get mad, or finally crack and join in Stiles’ laughter. Yet, under all of it, the silly gifts were all weirdly thoughtful. Absolutely useless and pointless of course, but they showed a knowledge of Derek, his personality and who he was, that Derek hadn’t realised the other man had. Each gift seemed designed to push his buttons and it was that which maintained Derek’s patience and humor in dealing with the pile. 

Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got rid of the last one - a ‘smiley face’ mask, which Stiles had insisted that he put on, if only for a minute. Derek had rolled his eyes, but done so, and Stiles had made a show of timing him, before letting him know when he could finally take it off. 

“Great, so - my present for you,” Derek said, tossing the mask aside and reaching for the plainly wrapped box under the tree. 

“No! Not yet,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s arm and pushing him back in place. “I have one more!“ Stiles set his now empty wine glass down on the table and reached behind the couch, pulling out a large, thin, rectangular parcel. 

“Stiles, not another one,” Derek grumbled, pretty sure he was at the end of his rope for Stiles’ bizarre sense of humor. 

“Hush, you’ll like this one. Promise.” Derek might have taken that to heart, but it wasn’t the first time Stiles had said it tonight. Sighing he ripped at the paper as Stiles poured himself another glass of wine. 

It only took pulling away part of the paper on the frame for Derek to figure out what it was. He wound up torn between keeping it half wrapped, or ripping away the rest to see the whole picture. He knew that window. It had been Laura’s room, the one she shared with Cora. He knew that tree because he’d climbed it and tried to jump from the branches to the roof. When he didn’t unwrap the rest of it, Stiles reached across and helped pull the rest of the paper away. “It’s your house,” he said plainly, though Derek could tell he was nervous. 

“I figured that out,” Derek said, staring at the watercolor of the Hale house, before the fire. In all its glory. 

“Right, well I thought you could hang it up here. Your old home in your new home.” 

Derek just stared at the painting. It was fall, his favourite time of year. The colors of the leaves providing a perfect setting for his childhood home. 

“Oh god - you hate it,” Stiles said, horrified as he tried to pull the paper back up again, obscuring the painting. It was only that which pulled Derek back to the present again. 

“No,” he said, his voice thick. “No - I don’t... I love it. How did you...?“ He looked up, dragging his gaze away from the picture to stare instead at Stiles. Words just weren’t enough. Words would never be enough. 

Stiles felt his cheeks go warm at that stare, holding it for only a minute before he busied himself with the wine glass, swirling the red liquid a little before shrugging. “I found an old picture of it. You know before. And I found this artist. I went to school with her. She’s really good. Obviously. I thought you might like it.” 

Derek took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Hearing Stiles just downplay it like that was almost more unbelievable than the gift itself. “...I thought we said small?” Derek said, after what seemed an eternity. 

Stiles shrugged again. “I suck at small.” He smirked a little, but still didn’t quite make eye contact. “You deserve bigger than small anyway.” That was softer, barely there, though he knew Derek would still hear it. 

Derek did hear it, his eyes going back to the smaller package he’d gotten for Stiles. It was fine, just until moments ago. It was a great gift, but now it didn’t feel like enough at all. “I want to give you your gift tomorrow,” he said, abruptly. 

“What? No. We agreed. Tomorrow’s about the kids. Anyway - you have my gift, right there.” 

“It’s... please Stiles.” Derek said. He needed some time to feel less like he’d screwed this whole thing up. He needed a few hours to come up with something - though he had no clue what he thought he could actually accomplish overnight between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. 

“But,” Stiles started, but stopped, not wanting to fight Derek on it. He seemed so serious. Whatever it was, it was probably plenty, and maybe Stiles had gone a little overboard with his gift, which was normal. That didn’t mean Derek needed to do the same thing. “If you’re sure.” 

Derek’s eyes dropped to the gift. He had wanted Stiles to have it for first thing Christmas morning, figuring that he’d enjoy it most that way. Now, though, it felt like not enough. Not enough by such a long way. He was almost embarrassed to hand it over. 

Stiles watched Derek for a moment then the gift and he made a snap decision. Climbing over Derek he reached for the gift, pulling it back to his lap. “I’m opening it anyway. This was your idea you know, opening them before the kids.” 

“Stiles...” 

“No,” Stiles said, pulling the gift back as Derek made a half-hearted effort to reach for it. “I’m opening this. It’s not a competition - and even if it is, I’m the one that said ‘small’, so I’m the one who cheated by breaking the rules. I’m sure that whatever you got will be great.” He tore off the last of the paper and grinned as he looked down at the box. 

“It’s for tomorrow. I know you’ve been excited about this. I thought - it was meant to, well, yeah.” Derek had had this whole spiel worked out, but it seemed irrelevant now. 

“It’s great. This is great, Derek. Really,” Stiles said, beaming at him. “You got me a camera? I mean, taking shots of my phone is fine, but with this - I have this plan for, like, this wall of photos in the kitchen? There’s all that blank space on the north wall and it’s just begging for something,” Stiles started and Derek could only smile as the other man continued, going into minute detail about exactly what he had in mind, and what kind of balance it would all have, and how conflicting colored frames would actually complement the overall design. 

It still didn’t seem like enough though. It was a nice camera, which did break the rule of ‘small’ in general, but Stiles’ gift was so touching, so perfect, that Derek’s seemed to fall short no matter how excited Stiles seemed. He’d have to come up with something else. “Just so long as you don’t think you can point it at me every five seconds.” 

“Oh you are so wrong. You have to be in the pictures. Family shots. You’re like a big part of this family you know.” 

“ _Ruined_ family shots, Stiles. Ruined,” Derek corrected. 

“It worked out just fine last time,” Stiles reminded him. 

“Fluke.” 

“Fate.” 

“Coincidence.” 

“Careful planning.” 

“I’ll take it back.” 

“Just you try.” 

“You know I could.” 

“I know you won’t“ 

“Remember that time I punched you?“ 

“Maribelle will cry...” 

Derek glared, his jaw flexing with frustrated defeat as Stiles pulled the trump card. Not like he actually would have followed through with any of his threats. In fact, the entire exchange had been nothing more than good natured banter that Derek had actually enjoyed. His eyes drifted back to the painting. “I need to find somewhere to hang it,” he said, almost reverently. 

“I was thinking over the mantle. I mean it’s sized for there. But it’s your painting! You can hang it wherever you want.” Stiles smiled more, pulling the camera out of the box and fiddling with it so see how it turned on and such. 

“But you planned for over the mantle. You don’t think that’s some sort of bad omen?“ Derek loved the painting, but there were just as many painful memories in the house as there had been good. 

“No. It’s your house. This is your new house. Trust me, it works.” Stiles managed to turn the camera on and point it at Derek snapping off a photo. “Perfect.” 

“Stiles...” 

“You keep saying my name in that tone like you think it’s gonna change anything,” Stiles teased, taking another picture, even though it was really pointless, with the way Derek was looking straight at him. “Face it, I was put on this earth to get you out of that eternal grump and I’m not gonna stop until I succeed.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow at that, reaching for the camera to push it down so it was not in his face. “That’s what you were put on this earth to do? If that’s true, you should know taking my picture isn’t going to do the trick.” His fingers grazed Stiles’ wrist, not able to help the contact between them. 

“Aww come on. You know it makes you smile that there’s pictures of you.” 

“I’d like to think I’m not that vain.” 

“Then you like knowing I have pictures of you.” 

Derek gave Stiles another look, but didn’t protest it. Part of him did kind of like it. It made what they had feel more real even if he wasn’t sure why that was the case. 

“Okay. Harsh crowd," Stiles said when Derek didn't answer. “Thanks - for the present,” he said, packing the camera haphazardly back into its box. “I... Guess I'll just turn in then. Merry Christmas, Derek,” he said, pushing himself up off the couch. 

“Merry Christmas, Stiles,” Derek said. He didn't move. He wasn't going to bed yet. 

Apparently, he still had some shopping to do. 

\----- 

Stiles had thought he would be sad to not do Christmas dinner at their house, but after watching the kids run around, tear into gifts, open everything and then sprawl on the floor to play with toys and put together the puzzle they'd gotten, he realized it was much nicer to get out of the house. Plus the McCalls had a great dinner planned and the kids were more than excited to have everyone there, showing off the toys they'd brought with them. So there he was, beer in one hand camera in the other, snapping pictures. It all worked out well even though he'd been pretty sure something was off the night before. Something with Derek. He kept watching the older man, hoping he could figure it out, but so far all he'd done was stare at him and take too many pictures. 

“Hey - is Derek okay?” Scott asked, coming to stand by Stiles in the corner of the living room. He spoke quietly, trusting to the noise the children were making to cover their conversation from Derek’s sensitive ears. The man in question was sat on the couch, talking to Melissa, but he seemed distracted, checking his phone every few minutes. It wasn’t normal behaviour for him at all. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted, frowning a little, as though the answers would just appear in the air now he knew he wasn’t the only one who had caught that there was something off. “He’s been like this since last night.” 

“What happened last night? You didn’t.. you know… finally.” 

“No! God, no, Scott - really, what are you even thinking? God. No. Jeez. No.” 

“Okay, okay - can’t blame a guy for asking.” 

“Yes. I can. And I will. And - never say that, okay? Especially when he’s _right there_ and with the freaky hearing and all.” 

“Dude - he’s not listening. Calm down,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I’m dropping it - what happened last night?” 

Stiles sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Well, I do, but… We swapped presents.” 

Scott eyed him and raised a brow. “You never did tell me what you were getting him. I talked to Derek about it though, a few weeks ago. He was stressing over what to get you.” 

Stiles blinked. “He was? Really?” he asked, surprised at that. 

“Yes. Really. He was going on and on about how you had said that you should both keep it to something small, but the only presents he could think of for you weren’t small at all and… what?” Scott asked, breaking off as Stiles turned pale and worried, his brow wrinkling in concern. 

Stiles downed the rest of his beer. “Shit.” 

“Um, dude - not the best descriptor in the world there. Did he, like, go overboard and you got him a cheese grater?” 

“A _cheese grater_? _That’s_ where your mind went? Out of all the crappy presents your mind could conjure up, you went with _cheese grater_?” 

“It was an example! So - did you?” 

“No, I didn’t. Like, the exact opposite. Except for the part where Derek got me a damn _cheese grater_.” 

“So - what did he get you?” Scott asked him. Both men had been surprisingly tight lipped about the subject of presents for one another. 

Stiles held up the camera. “He got me this,” he said as Scott took the camera and looked it over, whistling quietly under his breath as he realised how much it clearly wasn’t a cheap present. 

“Hold on a minute,” he said, pausing and looking at Stiles again. “If _this_ is the crappy present version of a cheese grater between the two of you, then _what the hell did you do_? You didn’t go all Lydia’s birthday on him, did you?” Stiles cringed. “Worse?” Scott asked. 

“So much worse.” 

“I can't believe there's a worse. You were about to propose to her,” Scott mocked before his eyes went wide. “You didn't propose did you?” 

“Oh my god, Scott stop. Where....what the hell stop that. That's not what this is about.” Stiles shook his head and went to take another drink of his beer only to realize it was empty. 

“It's not that far off base…” Scott started, but the look that Stiles gave him had him shutting up. 

“I got him a bunch of stupid stuff. Things to make him laugh, but the real gift was this framed watercolor of his old house. You know before it burned down? What it would have looked like when he lived there. I got an artist I know to paint it for him.” 

Scott was making that whistling noise again, looking back at Derek then back at Stiles. “Okay you’re right, that does sort of make this look like a cheese grater. If he liked it. It didn't freak him out or anything did it? Dredge up bad memories?” 

“No, no, he loved it. He got all quiet and serious and then didn’t want me to open my present. Which he thinks isn't enough, which sucks because I love it and I know why he got it. We had this argument over taking pictures for the Christmas card and I was taking all these photos of him and the kids and he's right, I could use a real camera. And it's sweet you know? But mine was... I'm an idiot.” 

“You're an idiot because... you gave him something that he really loved?” Scott said, doubtfully, as if he didn't understand what he was hearing. 

“Well yeah,” Stiles said, setting down the empty beer bottle so he didn't keep trying to drink from it. “I should have gone small. I said small. And then I made this huge gesture and ruined his gift. And now he’s mad at me.” Stiles looked back over towards where Derek was still chatting with Melissa, trying not to look at his phone again. 

“I don't think that's you being an idiot,” Scott tried, ignoring the look that Stiles gave him in return. “It's you being you. You suck at small.” 

“That's what I said!” 

“And I don't think you ruined his gift. Like I don't think he’s mad at you.” Scott looked at Derek. “I've seen Derek mad. It doesn't look like that. That's something else.” 

“Okay so he’s not rip your throat out mad, but I'm not sure what that emotion is, so since you're the expert on Derek, do you want to enlighten me?” 

Scott concentrated on Derek for a moment, before saying, “He's nervous. Impatient. Dissatisfied about something. He's... unhappy. He's not mad. In no way is he mad.” 

“Oh good. I didn't make him mad I made him unhappy. That's not better Scott! It's probably worse!” Stiles looked back at Derek and sighed. 

“What, you made him unhappy because you both broke the rules about small presents, only you broke it worse than he did?” 

“Yes?” Stiles slouched more, making a face. “I just don't know what to do with him. Or this. I mean... I tried to do something nice and it just upset him. It's not a contest is it?” Scott had been in more relationships. Maybe he knew better. 

“I don't know. You tell me. Are you and Derek a competition?” Scott asked. 

“What? No. We’re…” Stiles trailed off at a complete and utter lack of a term. “I have no idea what we are,” he said finally, voice quiet and somber. He wished he knew. It would make things infinitely easier. 

“That might be something worth figuring out you know,” Scott said, holding back a smirk. Finally. 

“So what I'm just supposed to corner him and demand he tell me what we are? He doesn't know anymore than I do.” 

“You've had worse plans in the past.” 

“Sure. Plans that have completely and utterly _failed_ Scott,” Stiles hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. 

“Fine. Then why don’t you just go over there and asked him what’s bugging?” 

“He’s talking to your mom.” 

“I guarantee she’s noticed.” 

“And what does that matter? I’m not about to go over there, ask him some question about ‘us’ or whatever I did to upset him in front of your mom. Or everyone else here. What if he blows me off?” Stiles would much rather do that in the safety of their own home, plus he was worked up enough to put the ‘us’ in air quotes when he was sure five minutes ago that this wasn't related to him and Derek. It was just Derek being weird. Only now Stiles was starting to think it was all of it being weird. 

Scott tilted his head and stared at Stiles for a moment. Then he grinned and headed over to Derek, throwing himself down on the couch next to him and spreading out. “Hey, Derek. What's up?” 

With Derek and Melissa looked at Scott as though he were crazy, whilst in the background, Stiles cringed. 

Instinctively, Derek looked behind him for Stiles, as if what Scott was doing was his fault. “Um, nothing more than a few minutes ago. Was just talking to your mom about kid stuff. What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing,” Scott told him. “Just making sure that everyone's enjoying Christmas in the moment. Which means-” Scott reached out and grabbed Derek’s phone, holding it out of reach. “-putting the tech away.” 

Derek glared at Scott, not even reaching for the phone. “Give it back Scott. I’m waiting on something.” 

“What? What are you waiting on that’s so important that you have to have your head stuck in it?” Scott asked, raising one eyebrow and not handing the phone back. 

“Since when is it any of your business?” Derek countered. “Give me the phone. We both know it's not a fair fight.” Maybe. Scott was stronger than he had been now, but Derek liked to pretend he had the upper hand. 

“Tell me what you're waiting on,” Scott said, enunciating each word slowly. Maybe he would have got the response he wanted, if Melissa hasn’t reached over and plucked the phone out of her son’s hand. 

Handing it back to Derek, she said, “Now, now boys. It’s Christmas. Just enjoy it.” 

“Again, it’s none of your business,” Derek repeated, but as soon as the phone was back in his hand he was checking his email, sure the confirmation of the trip he booked would be there. Scott leaned over so he could see the screen just as the email Derek had been waiting on popped up. 

“Why are you booking a trip to the mountains?” 

Derek pulled the phone away from Scott. “Get off, leave it alone.” 

It was too late. Stiles was already there. “You’re leaving?” he asked, aghast. 

Derek had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes and glaring at Scott simultaneously. “I’m not leaving.” 

“But you booked a trip. Is this a work thing? Why... When?” Stiles could hear the confusion rising in his own voice, making it go higher. 

“I did. But I’m not leaving.” Derek sighed. This was not how he wanted to give Stiles the gift. It had supposed to have been more special, not Stiles panicking over him leaving and not telling him. “We’re going. All of us. You, me, the kids.” 

The look on his face said that Stiles didn’t get what he was being told. Derek sighed, “The kids have never seen snow. The one last ingredient for a Stilinski-Hale-Blake perfect family Christmas. So, we leave tomorrow.” 

“That’s way too many names,” Scott said, but Stiles waved him off. 

“Seriously? That's what all this was about? You were planning something else? Snow. Real snow. With the kids. Wow.” 

“I wanted to live up to you. To your present,” Derek told Stiles, ignoring Scott's comments as much as Stiles had. The way he was acting, it was like there was nobody else in the room. “I'd thought about it before. Decided it was too much.” 

“And then I broke the rules first,” Stiles concluded. 

“Right.” 

“You broke the rules too,” Stiles pointed out. “You didn’t have to.” He couldn’t help the grin though, the way he was bursting at the seams with happiness. It was perfect. 

“Yeah, I did,” Derek said, an echoing smile erupting on his own face. “I wanted to, once I knew that ‘small’ really was out the window.” 

They beamed at each for long enough that Scott and Melissa started to feel awkward, as though they were intruding in their own home. Melissa lightly cleared her throat, which was enough to snap them out of it. 

“Can we go tell the kids?” Stiles asked bouncing with excitement. 

Derek just laughed, “Lead the way.”


	5. Winter

Evan and Maribelle were both fast asleep by the time the car pulled up outside their cabin. It had been a long drive, and Derek was just grateful that he and Stiles had only had to listen to Marcus moaning for the last couple of hours. Even that had mostly faded away as they got above the snowline. None of the kids had ever seen snow before - and it had only been when it started to appear that Stiles had admitted that he’d only ever seen snow twice before in his life.

“Not everyone got to spend their college years in New York you know,” Stiles reminded him after Derek scolded him for being distracted by the snow as they were unloading the kids out of the car. Derek was nudging a sleepy and wide eyed Marcus toward the door with Maribelle draped across his back. Stiles had Evan, wrapped in a blanket, but his eyes were all around him. “This is amazing. And cozy,” he said - the last part was about the cabin.

It wasn’t the cabin that Derek had originally wanted but he’d been assured it would comfortably house a family of five. Just looking at it had him worried it was small, but he supposed they would make do. “The one I wanted was already taken,” he said, an explanation even though Stiles hadn’t asked for one. 

Whoever organised this place was good. Stiles opened the door onto a brightly lit room. There was a real fire already blazing in the fireplace, and a little basket of welcome goods sat on the table in the open plan living space. Wood was clearly a decorative theme throughout the place. The interior walls were left to show the horizontal stripes of planed logs. To one side of the room a wooden staircase rose to the bedrooms, whilst at the other end of the room, by the chimney breast, the ceiling was at double height, exposing the rafters. There was a comfortable looking set of couches arranged around the fire, and an archway through to what appeared to be a small, but well presented kitchen. “This is great, really,” Stiles breathed, taking it in as wide eyed as Marcus was. 

“Good. Glad you think so,” Derek said with a smile. He thought it was as well, but part of his goal was to get that reaction out of Stiles. Derek shifted his hold on Maribelle and set her on the couch near the fire. “Get settled and I’ll get our stuff from the car.” He squeezed Stiles’ shoulder as he passed, already seeing Stiles leading Marcus deeper into the house with Evan in his arms. 

It took a couple trips to get everything in the house, since they had more than usual, Stiles wasn’t great at packing for snow weather so he’d brought everything. Derek was just finishing up when Stiles found him, free of the kids. “They all fell asleep,” he said with a shrug. “Even Marcus. He was so excited, but as soon as he found the bed he was out cold.” Stiles bounced on his feet for a moment then nodded upstairs. “Um. Our room…“

Derek set the last bag down. He looked toward Stiles, confused. “What do you mean ’our room’?” He had been clear to the booking agent. Three kids and two adults who needed their own rooms. Sure, when he’d been booking yesterday, it had all been rushed, but he’d gone through the same portal as previously, surely they’d still had his requirements on file.

Stiles pointed towards where the room was. “Um, well with the kids set up, there’s one room left. And it’s fine I guess, but it’s one big bed...” He trailed off then reached for the bags that Derek had set down just to do something with his hands. “I mean you can sleep there, it’s fine. I can do the couch. You drove the whole way. And before you moved I practically lived on the couch at the loft.” 

Derek’s eyes widened as he listened to Stiles talk. No. This couldn’t be happening. He’d pulled this perfect Christmas present out of the bag at literally the last minute. It couldn’t be all falling apart now. “No. It’s okay. I can take the couch,” he said without hesitation.

“Derek, seriously, I don’t mind. You paid for this and drove.”

“Yeah, I paid for this because it was your present.”

“Mine and the kids.”

“Which you wouldn’t have got if your present hadn’t been so unbelievably awesome.”

“I’m taking the couch, Derek.”

“No, you’re taking the bed.”

“You’ll be miserable,” Stiles insisted. “And no one likes you when you’re miserable. I promise. I’m okay. I’ll be by the fire and that’s great. Promise. I’m not upset.” 

“Stiles. you’re taking the bed. We’re not doing this. I won’t be miserable.” 

“You will,” Stiles moved around Derek. “See, I’ll start now.” He jumped towards the couch already dropping onto it. 

“I’m not letting you take the couch, Stiles,” Derek said, flatly.

“And you’re gonna stop me how?” Stiles asked, popping his head up to look over the back of the couch at him.

Derek just gave him an unimpressed look. “Faster? Stronger? More agile?”

Stiles airily waved a hand in an expansive, uncaring gesture. “Details.”

“Yeah, details that mean you’re sleeping in that bed, if I have to carry you there myself. Take your damn present, you frustrating, stubborn...” He let out a low growl of frustration. “Just go to bed, Stiles.”

The other man had ceased to act so blase and was just staring at Derek. “Um,” Stiles said, less than eloquently. He scrambled up off the couch. “Okay. I’ll - I’ll get you some blankets.”

Part of Derek hated that it went like that. That the squabble divulged into him getting frustrated and angry and that was enough to get Stiles to cave in. “You don’t have to. I can get them myself,” he said, voice softer now, running a hand over his face. “Sleep well Stiles.”

Stiles lingered near the stairs, like there was something else that needed to be done, but he didn’t do it. Instead he just nodded and headed back up the steps. “Thanks again,” he said, looking back at Derek. “It is perfect.” 

Derek watched the younger man retreat until he couldn’t see him anymore, then went back towards the couch, dropping on it with a heavy sigh. 

\-----

Sleep had been nearly impossible on the couch that definitely was more made for sitting than sleeping, and the fact that Derek woke up because the breath was forced from his lungs because sometime that had to be just after dawn Marcus landed on his chest, already babbling about how great the cabin was and how badly he wanted to go play in the snow and the fact that Stiles had said he’d make pancakes was the best thing ever. Derek’s eyes shot open, just barely managing to get Marcus off him without a growl and sending the young boy into the kitchen while he tried to sit up and shake off sleep. 

“You’ll be needing this.” A cup of coffee presented itself in front of Derek’s face and it was only belatedly that he realised that there was a Stiles attached to it. He took the mug gratefully and sipped at the steaming hot beverage as Stiles sat down next to him. “Do I get to say ‘I told you so’ now? Because - don’t take this the wrong way - but you look like shit,” he said, conversationally. Derek just sipped the coffee and glared at him. Stiles wasn’t allowed to be this chipper when Derek had had a terrible night’s sleep just so Stiles could have a good one. “Right,” Stiles continued. “That’s pretty much what I thought. I can take the couch tonight. I’m far more used to it than you.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, interrupting. “I’ve lived in the burnt out shell of a house. I’ve lived in an abandoned railroad car. don’t start on the whole ’I’m more used to roughing it than you. You won’t win.”

“Fair point. Dorm rooms and your couch don’t measure up. But I also have this amazing ability to be able to sleep well anywhere.”

“You won’t be able to sleep well on these.”

“You don’t seem to understand the measure of my skills,” Stiles corrected, the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“There’s no skill. It’s not possible.” 

Stiles went quiet for a moment, looking at his hands and not Derek. “It’s a big bed you know. Like...huge.” 

Derek fell silent also. He looked over at the fireplace. It needed cleaning out. Relaying. He couldn’t remember if that was part of the service. “Wouldn’t that be... awkward?” he asked, once he couldn’t avoid the fact he should answer any longer.

“Maybe,” Stiles said though he was sure the answer was yes. He wanted to touch Derek now, make him feel better somehow with a hug or something. If he thought that would do the trick he’d do it, but Stiles was sure that would just make things worse. “But it’s better than being miserable. And we can just decide for it not to be.” That might work. 

Derek was silent for the longest time, before he said, “These couches really weren’t made for sleeping.”

Stiles had held his breath waiting for Derek’s answer. When he finally did though, Stiles ran with it. “It’s settled then. We can share. Totally cool.” He jumped up ready to push past the uncomfortable part. “I’m going to go back to making breakfast. Why don’t you go and get a half hour’s extra sleep in an actual bed?” 

Derek thought for a moment that it hardly seemed worth it, but then nodded. His back loved the idea of actual comfort too much. He dragged himself to standing and headed off. “Call me when it’s done.”

\-----

When Derek woke, sprawled on the bed, he knew he’d been asleep longer than half an hour. He felt way too good to not have slept more. Dragging himself out of bed, he threw on clothes and went downstairs in search of Stiles. The kids as well, of course, but after a nap in a bed that smelled like Stiles, that was where his mind was. Instead of finding them in the living room or kitchen, he found leftover breakfast and a note that they’d gone outside to play. 

He doubted that he would ever admit just how much his inner wolf enjoyed the hunt. Just being left a note, and having to follow a wide, messy collection of footprints and the mingled trail of the four most important people in his life - by the time he got near them, Derek was pretty much bounding through the snow, mindless of the wet and the cold. Maybe he would have surprised them, if he hadn’t been so neglectful of anything nearing stealth. As it was, he found himself ambushed by Stiles and the two older children, pelted by snowballs from two directions as Evan sat, laughing, in a makeshift sled.

Despite the urge to go after Stiles, Derek went for the kids first, catching each of them and hearing them dissolve into giggles. Shaking the snow out of his hair and turned back to Stiles, whispering to the kids. It sent them into giggles again but after a moment the direction of the snowballs changed, landing on Stiles instead. 

After that, everything descended into chaos, with the various parties changing sides at random, until they all ended up in a huge pile in the snow, with only Evan being safe and dry in his sled. Derek found himself on the bottom, with Stiles rubbing snow in his hair, Marcus straddling his legs and Maribelle sitting on his chest with a huge grin on her face. Derek realised he really didn’t care. Everyone was happy and laughing. The snow was like some kind of magic that healed all stress and worries in the life.

Derek reached up to return the snow in his hair favor for Stiles, whose hat was long lost. It pulled the other man closer, which made everything all the better. He had all of them close, all where they needed to be. 

Stiles let Derek pull him in closer, shivering as snow ran down the back of his neck. The hard part wasn’t playing with them, or grinning at that smile that Derek had. It was keeping from pushing too far, to thinking that his gift wasn’t the trip, but that smile. That feeling like he he belonged right where he was, Derek’s hand in his hair, their kids pulling at him to try and drag him into the pile. 

It felt like home.

Derek was the first to pull away. Not because he wanted to - his personal stamina could stand far more than any of the others after all - but more because get knew the others couldn’t stand what he could. That and he was a naturally protective person. He cared for what was his - and in doing so, he went for the easiest target.

“Who wants hot chocolate!” he cried, jumping to his feet and catching Maribelle in his arms, tossing her up into the air and catching her.

Maribelle squealed at being tossed, trying to say she did but she was giggling too much. Marcus was jumping though, wanting to be tossed too despite his size. “Me! I want to! Toss me daddy!” Stiles felt himself wanting to do the same, to pull Derek back close again and feel that warmth. 

“I know I could use some,” he said instead, reaching for the rope attached to Evan’s sled as Derek set Maribelle down to toss Marcus. 

“Hot chocolate it is then!” Derek insisted, setting Marcus down and watching the kids start off towards the cabin. 

“I want marshmallows!” Marcus proclaimed as he made his way through the deep snow.

“And squirty cream!” Maribelle chimed in.

That had Derek looking back at Stiles. “Squirty cream?” 

“Whipped cream. Makes a squirting noise out of the can,” Stiles clarified, hurrying his steps to be even with Derek. Just to be sure he made the noise which just made Derek laugh. 

“Oh that. Yes then. That too!” 

None of the small party had realised quite how far out they had gone. At least the children were properly dressed for the weather, since Stiles had insisted they stop en route for boots and snowsuits for each of them. Derek didn’t really feel the cold in any event, and was, in fact, just feeling exhilarated by the time they got back, practically bouncing through the snow, playing with the children in turn. Stiles, though, was chilled to the bone and soaking wet. He was clearly putting a good front on, grinning and laughing at seeing a whole new side of Derek, but by the time they got back to the cabin, enough was enough.

“Stiles, why are you shaking?” Maribelle asked, curiously, as he tried to help her take off her outdoor clothes. He couldn’t quite get his fingers to work the way he wanted.

Derek looked over, frowning for a moment, then cursing under his break. “Da...darn, Stiles. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“M’fine,” the younger man insisted, but Maribelle had given up on him helping and his teeth chattering were giving him away. “And you were having fun. I was having fun.” And now he was shivering a little. 

Derek raised a brow, unconvinced. “Sure. Fun that led to you being half frozen. Go, get changed. Bring a blanket back with you. I’ll get the fire going.”

Stiles pouted and made a move to protest, but Derek’s look turned almost stoney and he couldn’t compete with that. So he wound up pulling himself out of his outdoor clothes then trudging up the stairs to find warm and dry clothes. When he came back down he was in his pajamas mostly, armed with a sweatshirt from his high school lacrosse days, though the logo was faded from repeated washings. He had the blanket too, but he still looked sullen.

Derek didn’t even give Stiles a chance to complain before he steered him towards the spot closest to the fire. “Under the blanket.” Stiles was pouting again, but at least he was close enough to where Maribelle and Marcus had brought their puzzle from home out and set it up near the fire to put it together. He was caught up in trying to help them, pointing out how to build out the edge pieces when the couch shifted under him and he realized Derek was sitting next to him, handing over a mug of hot chocolate.

“We need to get you some better gear,” Derek said, adjusting the blanket further round Stiles shoulders, sitting hard up against him. “Sorry, I should have thought about it before.”

“But you forget what it’s like to be a puny human?” Stiles half joked.

“I never was a puny human.” Derek frowned, guilt showing in his features.

“Of course you weren’t. Weren’t ever awkward either were you?” Stiles made a face, even if he knew it was probably true. He waved Derek’s guilt away though.”I wouldn’t have wanted you thinking about anything but what you were thinking about,” he said, letting his voice go lower. “You seemed so happy.”

“I was happy,” Derek admitted softly. “But that’s no excuse for you freezing to death.”

“I wasn’t freezing to death,” Stiles protested. “...just that cold and wet don’t always mix.”

“It was enough for you to get sick. Which I don’t want.” Derek rested his hand on Stiles’ head, just like he had outside, feeling like it was a safe way of touching the other man.

It was weird, how something so simple could have Stiles leaning into Derek a little more, smiling some. “I don’t get sick. I’m not that puny of a human. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you will, because you’re gonna stay right here, by the fire and play with the kids, and I’m gonna make soup for lunch,” Derek told him, firmly.

Stiles reached out for Derek so quickly that he almost spilled the hot chocolate in his hand. “don’t go just yet,” he blurted, hand holding on to Derek’s shirt for an instant before he pulled away a little quickly. “If you don’t have to you know.” 

Derek hesitated for a moment and then sighed, settling back into place.

“I know I can never know what it’s like, by that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

Stiles glanced at Derek confused. “Worry about me? You don’t have to.” 

“When you’re shivering and your teeth are chattering like that, it’s not a question of whether or not I ‘need to’. I just do,” Derek told him.

“Yeah but I’m not...” Stiles trailed off and looked down at his mug instead. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was too perfect.” The admission was barely there, beyond quiet, but Derek would hear him. 

“Playing in the snow with the kids?” Derek asked, one corner of his mouth lifting to quirk a smile. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it. I think Marcus would move here in a heartbeat if we’d let him.”

“And you,” Stiles added, giving more of a smile than Derek did, but that was how they were. “He would. He’s primed and ready to become a lumberjack.” 

Derek frowned. “‘And me’ what?” he asked, feeling like he was missing something.

Stiles felt his cheeks go a little warm, looking away from Derek again. “It wasn’t just the kids. You being there too.” He said it faster than he would have liked to, giving away his nerves. 

“Oh. Right. Well - I haven’t had that much fun in years,” Derek said, and it sounded like a confession. “You were meant to wake me for breakfast, you know, but I’m kind of glad you didn’t. Did you plan it on purpose? Me having to hunt for you?”

“I thought you could use the sleep,” Stiles said first, smiling a little sheepishly. “Maybe. I mean...you’re built for it. And it’s nice. You looking for me. Us. You know what I mean.” There was a small pause as Stiles bit at his lower lip. “We could be like that more. Have fun.” 

“I felt guilty,” Derek admitted, looking down at his hands as he sat shoulder to shoulder with Stiles. “For the longest time, I felt guilty for anything good in my life. I was so angry, about everything.”

“What happened?” Stiles asked carefully. It wasn’t often Derek willingly opened up to him and he didn’t want to spook the other man.

“They happened,” he said, indicating the children playing on the floor.

Stiles looked at the kids, then back at Derek. He lived with the man, knew his every movement, but in some ways he barely knew him at all. “You don’t have to be guilty now. Actually, I think you earned some happy in your life.” 

“I don’t know about ‘earned’, but this feels like a new start. A second chance. And - I can’t let my past stand in the way of their future.”

Stiles mulled that over for a moment. He thought Derek was too hard on himself, too willing to hold onto his mistakes and view them as failures. In a way, they both shared that trait to some extent. They’d both seen people die because of things they’d done. “you’re a great dad,” he said, eventually, deciding to go with the positive.

“Because I have you,” Derek corrected, since that had been the theme when all this had begun. Stiles hadn’t been shy in letting Derek know he didn’t think the older man could do this without him.

Stiles shrugged a little, smiling to himself. “You might have figured it out on your own. I definitely got you there faster,” he said, pleased with the compliment but for once not feeling right taking all the credit. That was how it had started sure, but that wasn’t how it was now. At least it wasn’t how Stiles saw it now. 

Derek raised a brow. “That’s a very magnanimous ’might’,” he observed. “But probably true.”

“You would have been fine. you’re a natural. I just made you better at it.” Stiles grinned some, leaning into Derek’s shoulder more with his. “Plus I wanted to be here.”

Derek actually looked bashful at that. “No, I’m not. You are the natural father here. You just... always seem to know exactly what to do.”

“Ironic, really. Considering that you’re actually the natural father - of one of them, at least,” Stiles joked, pushing against Derek’s shoulder with his own. “As for knowing what to do - that’s just a combination of hours of research, and never really having grown up myself.”

“You’ve grown up more than you think,” Derek pointed out, but he had that ghost of a smile on his features again.

“Now who’s dealing out the compliments?” Stiles jokes, though he was clearly thrilled by it.

“Just this once. don’t get used to it,” Derek countered with a dark look that didn’t go all the way to his eyes for once. He’d give more. He knew he would.

“Sure thing,” Stiles said, even if he was still smiling.

“Daddy, Stiles, we need help with this! We can’t find this piece,” Maribelle said, disrupting the conversation as she pointed at the puzzle.

“No, we don’t, Mari. We can do this - they’re busy,” Marcus told her, half dragging his sister away.

“But, but,” Maribelle started, giving her brother a confused look. Stiles caught it though, instantly thinking of the question that Marcus had asked him months before and wishing he was dead just as much as he had then.

“We’re not that busy,” Derek said starting to get up, but Marcus waved him off.

“It’s fine Dad,” he insisted, pulling Maribelle back to the puzzle and trying to draw her focus there.

Stiles was trying not to look like he wanted the couch to swallow him up. He edged away from Derek, pulling the blanket further round him. “I could take that soup now,” he suggested, not quite looking Derek in the eye.

Derek looked just as confused as Maribelle and Stiles shifting away and giving him an excuse to leave didn’t help matters. His hesitation was clear, as if he thought he should be doing something else in that moment, but not entirely sure what it was or what it should be. “Sure,” he said finally, pausing for a moment more, one hand partially out to Stiles before he pulled it away and got up, headed for the kitchen.

As Derek left, Marcus turned round to look at Stiles. The boy glared at him, looking betrayed. Before Stiles could say anything at all, Marcus pointedly turned his back on Stiles, focusing all of his attention on the puzzle.

\-----

Stiles was doing his best to avoid going to bed. And he was doing his best not to appear nervous, but he was. So very nervous. How did he do this? How did they just share a bed like it wasn’t a big deal? He kept trying to think of it like it was Scott, how that would be a no brainer, but it wasn’t Scott. It was Derek. And things were completely different with Derek. 

So he busied himself with the kids, letting them entertain him and pull him into whatever game they were playing. Once they’d gone to bed though he tried to busy himself with a book, though had no attention span to read and wound up just bouncing his knee furiously on the couch, wishing he could get lost in the story and not glancing at Derek every five seconds to see if he was still there or if he’d gone up to bed yet. He was, of course, still there. In the same spot he had been all night. Sitting in the dark red armchair to the right of the fire, seemingly engrossed in his own book. Stiles envied him that. Envied him the ability to concentrate on one thing - and the ability to not seem at all fazed by the impending and unavoidable ’bedtime’.

Then again, Stiles considered, there was no real reason for Derek to be nervous, was there? It wasn’t the same for him. Stiles just needed to get himself to that same place. That would be better for everyone. Well, possibly except for himself and Marcus, but they would both get over it. 

Maybe.

Realising that the words on the page in front of him were blurring into a mass of unrecognizable letters, Stiles shut the book with a jolt of fear based in memory. 

Derek looked up, his brow creasing slightly before he glanced at the clock. “It’s late,” he said, stating the obvious, given the time. “I think I’ll turn in. You coming?”

“...I’m reading.” Stiles winced when he said it since he’d just obviously stopped reading with a flourish. Derek just raised his eyebrow, watching him and seeing through the lie. 

“You are?” Derek said motioning towards the closed book in Stiles’ lap. He waited a moment before getting up and reaching for Stiles’ book, setting it aside. “Come on, bed. They’ll be up at dawn and you don’t want to be tired.” 

Stiles looked up at him, faking protest. “I wanted to finish my chapter!”

Derek raised a sceptical brow. “Sure you did. Which is why you’ve been reading the same page for at least a half hour now. I know you. You are not the type of person to sit and read. Not unless you can have twenty other things on the go at once. You’ve been doing that… bouncy knee thing you do when you’re trying to stay still.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he gaped. “You were nose deep in your own book, how did you..” Derek just gave him a long look, as if to say ’do I really need to answer that question?’ and Stiles sighed. “Fine - just… you go up. I’ll be up… later.” _When you’re already asleep, maybe._ That would probably make things easier.

“Later? Why later? You’ll fall asleep on this couch and I’ve proved it’s not a good idea. Come on.” Derek nodded towards the stairs, but Stiles stayed put. 

“I’m not going to fall asleep on the couch. I’m just…not coming yet.” 

“What are you going to do? What’s so pressing that you have to sit here in the dark by yourself?” 

_Not panicking over what comes next with going to bed together._ “Stuff.” 

“Stiles.” 

“I said stuff.”

“Stiles.”

“Stop saying my name like that!” 

Derek gave the other man a long and doubtful stare. Then he sighed and turned away. “You fall asleep on the couch, I’m not carrying your ass to bed!” he called as he got to the stairs.

Stiles sank back into the couch cushions, then squirmed. Reaching behind him, he pulled out one of Maribelle’s shoes. Then Evan’s second favourite stuffed rabbit. He pulled himself out of the seat and began to tidy up. At least it would give him something to do.

Derek didn’t make it all the way up the stairs, watching Stiles from where he was, quietly. “Stiles, come to bed.” This was quieter, more of a plea or as close to a plea as Derek would get. 

Stiles stopped holding on to the bunny still. “I…” He squeezed the stuffed animal a little more then nodded. “Fine.” He walked toward Derek, head down, slowly - like a man going to his own execution. He was aware of Derek watching him until he got to the bottom of the stairs, and then the other man disappeared into the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. Stiles swallowed and, realising he was still holding the bunny, set it on the bottom step and climbed the stairs.

It struck him hard once again just how much this whole thing clearly didn’t bother Derek, when he walked into the room just in time to see Derek pulling on those cotton pants that he liked to wear to bed. Sure, the man was facing away, but he still got an eyeful, plus the sight of those muscles moving across his back and shoulders as he stretched.

Stiles moved as Derek turned. Stiles took a couple of steps across the room and grabbed his things. “I’ll… change in the bathroom,” he said, quickly.

Derek seemed to pause and look intently at Stiles, who was now standing by the bed. The silence stretched for what seemed to be an eternity. Long enough for Stiles to be about to ask what was wrong, when Derek seemingly shook himself and said, “No need - I’m gonna go do my teeth. I’ll be a few minutes - you can have the room.” With that, the older man turned and just walked out, leaving Stiles feeling like he had just missed something.

\-----

Derek stared at himself in the mirror. He had no idea what had just happened. Everything had been fine and then suddenly he’d looked at Stiles, standing at the side of the bed and it was like a whole new reality had come crashing in. Resting his hands on either side of the sink he looked at it below him, not sure what he was supposed to do now. This wasn’t a big deal. He’d told Stiles it wasn’t a big deal. It felt like a big deal now though. 

He let out a big breath, splashing water on his face. He had to face it eventually. Letting himself out of the bathroom he steeled himself to speak to Stiles, try and wade through the uncomfortable. He didn’t get any farther than the doorway though, staring at the bed. Stiles was sprawled out, on his side, one arm tucked underneath his pillow, the other hanging off the side of the bed. Even though there was a slight chill in the room, the covers were pushed down to rest over Stiles’ hips, and the grey t-shirt he was sleeping in had risen up just enough to reveal an inch strip of skin along his back. It was so completely, resolutely Stiles that Derek had to smile. It didn’t help with the nerves at all though. 

He knew he had to walk over there and get into that bed. It was a huge bed, even with Stiles sprawled out across it the way he was, yet still. It wasn’t a lot of space. Enough, but not a lot. He watched the other man for a moment longer, then finally pushed himself off the wall and pulled the door behind him. 

It didn’t take all the much to nudge what parts of Stiles that had made their way onto his side of the bed over to the other side, but once Derek was settled he couldn’t sleep. He’d been tired, but now he felt more awake than ever. Stiles’ every breath rang in his ears, his steady heartbeat trying to pace Derek’s but failing miserably. 

Derek was far too aware of the other man lying next to him. He knew it was ridiculous - this was far from the first time he had shared a sleeping space. Yet, nothing seemed to work. He tried turning on his side, facing away from Stiles, only for the other man’s body heat to seemingly reach across the bed and radiate against Derek’s back. He tried turning toward him - only then, when he closed his eyes, the inside of his eyelids were apparently imprinted with the vision of Stiles, asleep. Which, given the way the man actually slept, really shouldn’t have been as memorable as it was, unless it was in some kind of comedic way. Which it wasn’t. Derek really wasn’t laughing.

He wound up on his back again, looking straight ahead, willing sleep to him, trying to force it. He tried to settle his arms, find a comfortable position - only that wound up with his fingers brushing Stiles’ back. The other man made the slightest noise in his sleep, his breathing and heart rate off for just a second, but it was enough to send sparks through Derek’s veins. He jerked his hand back, dragging his fingers through his hair. The couch might have been better. 

He tried deep breathing exercises. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. He had read somewhere it was meant to be calming. All it did was increase his awareness of the scent of Stiles all around him. When he had slept this morning, it had been comforting, almost cosy. Now, it was purely overwhelming. He couldn’t sleep like this.

He made a decision. Pushing the covers back, he was about to get out of bed, when Stiles suddenly rolled over. It was like being hit by a wave. One moment Derek was contemplating the couch once again, this next, he was pressed back into the bed as a sleeping Stiles bodily rolled over, and then seemingly snuggled up. Derek wasn’t sure what to do. There was now an arm around his waist. A head on his shoulder, and a leg thrown over both of his. He lay there, frozen, for a moment. The other man was clearly still sleeping. Derek looked down as Stiles muttered something incomprehensible and burrowed a little more against his shoulder.

It was… kind of adorable, actually. And, strangely, made things easier. Derek dropped his nose to Stiles’ hair and just inhaled, taking in that scent without the need to feel that it was an intrusion any more. After all, Stiles had come to him. Derek shifted slightly, bringing his arm round to cradle the other man and to pull the covers up over the both of them. The movement made Stiles twitch, which was enough for Derek to freeze, waiting on the other man to wake up and leave the two of them in some sort of awkward mess of arms and legs, but Stiles settled back again. 

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and let his eyes fall shut. When moments before sleep had been out of the question, now it was pulling at him, dragging him down as if all he had needed was the warmth pressed against his chest. 

\-----

Stiles was comfortable. He felt warm and safe and secure and he never wanted to move, ever again.

Something poked at his hip. Hard and, well, pointy. He muttered and burrowed deeper into his warm, firm pillow. 

He was poked again.

And again.

“ _Stiles_.” A stage whisper. Unignorable. Stiles opened an eye and lifted his head, craning round. Maribelle was kneeling on the edge of the bed, poking him in his leg.

“Wha’?” he asked, blearily.

“I’m hungry. Can you do pancakes again?” she asked him, bouncing a little. “But, shhh - daddy’s still asleep!”

Stiles knew he wasn’t properly awake yet. His brain wasn’t functioning, but one thing he did know. “Stiles was still asleep,” he pointed out.

“But you can make pancakes and daddy always burns them,” Maribelle said, as though this were obvious.

“That’s because daddy...Derek isn’t patient enough for them.” Stiles said it like he’d said it before, which he had. It was common knowledge in the house that Derek had no hand at pancakes. He got the message though, moving to sit up only to find out that he couldn’t move. He was pinned under something. It wasn’t until he actually looked down that he heard the snicker from the doorway where Marcus was. That wasn’t nearly as jarring as the arm around his waist holding him in place. 

Derek’s arm. 

Oh god. When he moved this time it was with more force, but at first Derek pulled back, as if trying to keep Stiles there, tangled up against him. If it weren’t for Marcus’ giggling and Maribelle’s insistence on breakfast, Stiles might have let the older man win, but he couldn’t. The kids had walked in on them. Like this. There was no explaining that one. 

Still, Derek didn’t seem in any hurry to let him go. Stiles looked at Marcus. “Marc - take your sister downstairs and carefully - _carefully_ \- get out the pancake ingredients. I’ll be down in just a minute.”

“Sure Stiles,” Marcus said, trying to hold back the giggles - very badly. Still, apparently Marcus no longer thought that Stiles had ruined his entire world. That was a positive as the boy dragged his sister out of the room.

“Derek? Der… I have to get up,” Stiles said, softly. He didn’t really want to wake the other man. He wasn’t sure he could deal with the humiliation, which was bound to follow. He’d prefer for the sleeping Derek to remain sleeping, but for his subconscious just to get the message enough to let him go.

Derek murmured in his sleep, something that sounded a little like a ’no’, but Stiles chose to ignore that possibility. Stiles swallowed a frustrated noise, wiggling a little more against Derek. It thankfully was enough to get him to move, freeing Stiles. 

Stiles let out a sigh of relief shifting to get out of bed, but just as he turned his back on Derek he realized that the other man was awake. 

“What’re you doin’?” Derek mumbled voice full of sleep, arms still very close to where Stiles had just been. 

“The kids want pancakes,” Stiles said, climbing out of bed and reaching for his hoodie. “You can sleep a little longer if you want.” He decided that not mentioning anything unless Derek did was the best way to go.

“Oh, okay.” 

Stiles heard the mattress move and the covers rustle. He tried to resist the urge to look round, but he lost that particular battle. 

Derek was lying stretched out on the bed, propped up on one elbow, his hair all awry, his expression still bleary from sleep, and all of those tanned muscles out on display as the covers from the bed pooled around his legs.

Stiles almost climbed back into bed. He wanted to. He wanted to just go back to that warmth that he’d been curled up next to and take it all back, but he couldn’t move. He just sat there, frozen, staring at Derek. 

“You okay?” Derek asked, sitting up more, concern in his eyes. Stiles was all but staring at him, which he wasn’t sure how to address other than something being wrong. He tried to smooth his hair, sure that might have been it, but as he reached for Stiles, Stiles jumped out of reach. 

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… They’ll be waiting you know? Hungry. See you downstairs when you’re ready,” Stiles said, practically fleeing the room.

\-----

“I’m sorry.”

The children were building a snowman just outside the front of the cabin, and Derek and Stiles were sat on the porch, wrapped up in coats and blankets, sipping hot chocolate. It was comfortable and cozy and awkward as hell, since they hadn’t talked about this morning and the ‘great cuddle incident’ was looming between them. It was Derek who decided to break the ice, offering a rare apology.

“You don’t need to be,” Stiles told him, not even pausing to ask what he was sorry about.

“No, I…”

“We don’t have to talk about this, Derek,” Stiles told him, picking up on just how uncomfortable Derek was. Stiles figured it was all his fault anyhow. Derek Hale hardly screamed ‘I’m one of life’s natural cuddlers’, after all. Stiles, on the other hand, would squeeze the hell out of his pillow if he didn’t have someone else to cling to. Which, really, was exactly what he had expected he’d be doing last night. Apparently, though, he’d ended up throwing himself at Derek. Probably traumatising the poor man in the process.

“And if we don’t?” Derek said, part of him wanting to ignore it, move on and pretend it never happened, but that wasn’t the case. It did happen. Derek wasn’t upset that it had happened. He wasn’t much different. Gruff exterior or not, it was in his nature to be more physical. Cuddling was completely normal. “I don’t want anything hanging between us Stiles. Not again.” 

“Fine. There’s nothing there.” That felt like Stiles was saying something he didn’t want to be saying. He let out a sigh and made a point of not looking at Derek. “You don’t have to apologize.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Derek pressed.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, jeez!” Stiles exclaimed, just wanting this all to be over so they could drop the subject.

“You seem uncomfortable now,” Derek pointed out, but he didn’t push too hard. “That wasn’t the point. I’m not upset or anything. I’m just sorry.” 

“Pretty sure I said you didn’t have to apologize.” 

“I feel like I do.”

“Well, you don’t,” Stiles told him, pulling the blanket further round himself and ignoring the fact that Derek was looking at him, clearly unconvinced.

“Do you want me to take the couch again tonight?” Derek asked, with a sigh.

That had Stiles whipping his head round to look at the other man. “What? No - you don’t need to do that. I told you - I’m not uncomfortable.”

Derek tilted his head a little, assessingly. “Good.”

“Good?” Stiles echoed, a little wide eyed, wondering what exactly that was supposed to mean.

Derek shrugged, his mouth curving upwards at the corners a little. “Yeah. Good. That bed’s far more comfortable than the damn couch.”

“Oh. Right.” Stiles paused, wanting to ask the millions of questions rushing through his head, but holding off. “Then we’re both comfortable. Good.” 

“And - I don’t mind. If you’re… closer,” Derek added, deciding that one of them was going to have to put that out there. “That’s not weird for me. Actually, it’s weirder for me to try and share a space, but not share a space.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide again as he swallowed hard. “Even with me?” What a stupid question. “I mean yeah. It’s nice. Or okay. Or something.” He was starting to flail mentally and bit his tongue to keep from saying more. 

Derek arched a brow. “Is there something particularly wrong with you?” he asked, dryly, his tone turning toward sarcasm. “Yes, Stiles, even with you amongst the thousands of _other people_ I’ve shared a bed with recently.”

“I’m not stopping you from sharing beds with people,” Stikes insisted. Of course that would easily be one of the hardest things for Stiles to deal with but he wasn’t going to stop Derek. “I just know we aren’t…” They weren’t what? Stiles didn’t have an end to the sentence. 

“We’re pack,” Derek filled in, clearly expecting that to be enough. “I know you’re not stopping me doing anything. I’m not complaining.”

Pack. Stiles just nodded, smiling slightly but it lacked his usual wattage. "You could. You probably should. I’m sure somewhere there’s someone complaining about what you’re letting go to waste not dating." 

Derek leveled a look at Stiles, then glanced between him and the children. “I’m good with my life as it is right now,” he told the other man. “I don’t want to date. They don’t need another person in their life right now. I don’t need another person in my life right now.”

Stiles wished he could wipe the hopeful look on his face, but it was there. He wanted what they had now to be enough, all either one of them needed. It was all Stiles needed. He couldn’t think of needing anything or anyone else. “Okay. Good.” 

“Good,” Derek said, visibly relaxing as that tension between them seemed to fade away. He turned toward the kids, smiling at the snowman they had managed to make between them, and without thinking, leaning a little more into Stiles’ side.

Stiles did the same, going back to watching the kids until he felt Derek there, closer to him. He ventured a glance at the older man, which just proved that it wasn’t something he was thinking about. Stiles felt that deep in his stomach, some sort of swell in his heart. He let himself settle closer, enjoying that between them. 

\-----

Stiles couldn’t help but bounce on his feet a little, smoothing his tie for what had to have been the fourth or fifth time in the past thirty seconds. “Shouldn’t we be with the kids?” he asked for the third time since they’d gotten in the car to drive to Lydia’s place. He hadn’t even picked out his outfit, she had, insisting that they get dressed up and then lecturing him that he hadn’t bought something dressy since graduation. 

“No. It’s New Year. They’re great with your dad. They were excited. And the four of them will be asleep by ten. And if we didn’t come Lydia would show up and drag us here.” The party was already going by the time they pulled up, cars parked in front of her house. “Stop that,” he said as Stiles reached to smooth his tie again. “It looks fine.” 

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Life can’t always be hoodies and baggy jeans, Stiles,” Derek told him, as he smoothly parked the car in an available space.

“Yeah, says the guy who could double as a fricking underwear model!”

That had Derek raising an eyebrow, as if he’d missed something. “Were you looking?” he baited, eyes smiling more than his face. “And you look just as good. Stop worrying.” 

Stiles blanched slightly then shook his head. “You know what I mean. You look good in everything.” 

“And you don’t?” 

“No.” Stiles frowned more before getting out of the car, doubting his answer. “Do I?” 

“You don’t look bad right now that’s for sure,” Derek said, shutting the door as he got out and locked the car. 

Stiles shot him a look over the hood of the car. “There is a whole lot of difference between   
‘not bad’ and ‘good’, you know.”

“Fine,” Derek said with a roll of his eyes as they started toward the front door together. “You look good. You look great. Want a few more compliments? Just… Stop twitching like you’re a five year old dressed up for his cousin’s wedding.”

“I look great?” Stiles said, teasing slightly, but starting to smile more. 

“You know you do. Lydia picked out your outfit.” She had done a good job, the perfect shirt and tie, the right colors for his eyes and everything fit which was almost unheard of.

Stiles pushed lightly against Derek’s shoulder. “Way to compliment Lydia,” he joked. “Anyway, what was that like, being a five year old dressed up for his cousin’s wedding? I bet you were precious.” 

“It was annoying. I just wanted to go play with my younger cousins and I had to sit still. Which sounds so much like you…” 

“It sounds nothing like me - you _tried_ to sit still. At five years old, I was a hyperactive nightmare. I would have been running under all the tables and ruining the photographs. Luckily, none of my cousins were getting married.”

“I’m forever surprised that your father didn’t lock you in cell until you were eighteen,” Derek said with a shake of his head as he knocked on Lydia’s door. 

“He tried,” Stiles said, but his focused changed when Lydia, looking as radiant as ever in a sparkly short dress. 

“Finally. I thought you two were going to try and get out of this. I’d hoped both of you knew better.” She reached for Stiles’ arm to pull him inside. “Come on, plenty of people for you to meet. Let’s get started. You too tall, dark, and handsome.” She waved for Derek to follow. Stiles flashed him a panicked look, but Derek just smiled. 

“It’s a party, Stiles. Meeting people is what you do,” Derek said. Seeing Derek slip into the personable persona that he usually kept hidden well away didn’t help Stiles at all, but he had no choice but to follow the petite strawberry blonde through the mass of people until she stopped before a couple who Stiles didn’t even recognise.

“So,” Lydia said, addressing the couple first. “Dan, Kelly - I’d like you to meet Stiles and Derek. They have a son about the same age as Benjamin. Maybe they’re in the same class at school.” Smiling widely, she turned to Stiles. “Stiles, Derek - this is Dan and Kelly. You should talk,” she instructed, and then just disappeared into the crowd, leaving Stiles gaping in shock.

The couple looked friendly enough, smiling a little more at mention of their son. “Benjamin is ten, how old is your son?” Kelly asked and Derek had to suppress a smile. 

“Marcus is the same age,” he confirmed. Stiles looked pained, but Derek stepped on his foot lightly. 

“Really? That’s so wonderful, that you two have been together that long.” 

Stiles had to swallow a noise, hating what that implied. “We… aren’t. Marcus hasn’t been with us that long.” He looked at Derek for help. 

“Plus, Stiles isn’t really old enough to have had a ten year old for that long,” Derek added, easily, leaving Stiles almost groaning in frustration. It always fell to him. Always. Still, it was better than hearing the words from Derek’s mouth, so he never actually got as far as complaining.

“We’re not together,” he said, glancing at Derek. “Marcus is Derek’s step-son and I…” He hesitated. They were on better ground these days, but Stiles still didn’t really have a definition.

“Stiles lives with us and helps me with the children. We have three - Marcus is the eldest.”

Kelly and Dan looked confused, sharing a glance. Clearly ‘we’re not a couple’ didn’t compute. “Are you… um, brothers?” Dan asked, trying to find a neat little box to put them in.

“No relation,” Derek confirmed. 

“We’re just friends,” Stiles added.

Kelly and Dan were glancing at each other again and Stiles was fighting a groan. Lydia was so dead. “Well, that’s nice,” Kelly said smiling as best she could and Stiles wanted to crawl into a hole and die. She cleared her throat and at least this time her smile was more genuine. “How old are your other two?” 

Stiles was grateful when Derek took the lead, returning Kelly’s smile, his whole body language screaming ‘I’m a great guy, you’re gonna love me’, whilst Stiles felt like he was standing there drowning in a puddle of social anxiety. “Maribelle is seven and Evan is just a year old,” he explained.

“Oh, how precious,” Kelly said, falling for Derek’s charm. “We only have the one. We talked about having another, but it never happened. Ben’s fabulous though - he’s so clever…”

Stiles found himself drawn into the conversation. It was stilted at first. Derek carried most of it with an ease that made Stiles wonder if he’d been replaced with some kind of doppleganger. Surely that had to be a thing. He doubted it, though. He’d seen this before - the vast majority of the time, Derek was a moody, antisocial ball of bad attitude, yet when he wanted, he could charm the birds down out of the trees, with a combination of startling good looks and sparkling wit. It worked on Kelly and Dan and it certainly worked on Stiles. At least, it worked until Lydia suddenly appeared, moving them on to introduce them to another couple - and so the whole thing began again.

\-----

Scott was standing by the back door, looking out over the pool. Lydia had, of course, gone all out and the whole back yard was strung with pretty little fairy lights. It was nice and somewhat more peaceful than the heaving interior of the property. Lydia had, as per usual, invited everyone she knew - and Lydia knew a lot of people.

His musings were interrupted as Stiles flung himself through the door and flattened his back against the wall on the other side of Scott. “Scott. Dude. Hide me!” Stiles proclaimed, dramatically, leaving Scott blinking and looking around for some kind of immediate danger.

“Hide you from what?” Stiles asked, actively trying to find the source of Stiles’ distress and not seeing anything. 

“Lydia. And her let’s ’introduce Stiles and Derek to every couple here’ plan. Did she even invite any single people?” Scott let his shoulders drop and gave his friend a look. 

“Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“I’m not. How dare she, right? What is she trying to do in there? Not only am I all dressed up like a kid at his cousin’s wedding, I’m meeting other parents and explaining for the bajillionth time that no I did not father a ten year old and Derek and I aren’t brothers.” He banged his head back against the wall. “It would be easier if it had been a party full of hot women flirting with Derek.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “No it wouldn’t. You’d be grouchy instead of uncomfortable.” 

“Yeah, but at least I could find a quiet corner and drown my sorrows in beer, instead of having to have the same conversation again and again and again and watch Derek just enjoying it far too much and why is he never the one who has to explain why we’re not together anyway?”

“I thought you hated it when he did that?” Scott questioned. “You do. I know you do. You hate hearing him say that. You told me that you’re always the one to say it because you don’t want to hear the words from him.”

“Well, yes! Normally. It’s just never been so… concentrated before!” Stiles protested. “Now it’s just really depressing.”

“There might be a reason why he never says it,” Scott mused, mostly putting the idea out there to see what Stiles did with it. 

“don’t...don’t even go there.” 

“Really? Because it’s not completely ridiculous is it? He doesn’t say it.” 

“Because I say it first! Shut up Scott.” Stiles couldn’t help looking back inside, trying to spot Derek in the crowd. “It’s not like that.” Derek had surprised Stiles though, being okay with sleeping tangled up in one another at the cabin. And Stiles had surprised himself with how much he didn’t like sleeping alone once they got home. 

Scott just laughed, then laughed harder as Stiles ducked back behind him again. Lydia appeared through the crowd, making a beeline for Stiles. She ignored Scott completely as she planted herself in front of Stiles, her hands on her hips.

“That’s where you got to!” she declared. “I turned away for just one minute and you were gone. You left me and Derek and I have someone…”

“...You wanted to introduce us to! I get it, Lydia. God - what is it with this party?” Stiles exclaimed. “Did you _only_ invite couples. Ones that I _don’t_ know?”

“Hey - you know me!” Scott protested.

“You don’t count, Scott,” both Lydia and Stiles said, in unison.

“Good to see where I stand.” 

Lydia ignored Scott in a way that only Lydia could do, focusing on Stiles instead. “You know this one. Promise.” She had that smile that made Stiles all the more worried. “Come along,” she insisted then turned on her heel expecting him to follow. Which he did. Everyone was powerless when it came to Lydia. He did flash Scott a ‘save me’ look, but Scott just started laughing again. 

Lydia caught Derek’s arm as they passed, steering them towards her next target. “Danny!” she called out once they were close to him and Stiles let out a sigh of relief. He did know this one. “Danny, you remember Stiles.” 

“How could I forget,” Danny said with a sly grin and Stiles half glared at him. 

“Of course. You might remember Derek too? He and Stiles are raising three kids together. Stiles I don’t think you’ve met Danny’s boyfriend Eric yet.” 

“Hey,” the tall blonde that was clearly the aforementioned Eric said, raising his glass slightly. “Nice to meet you both.”

“You too,” Stiles said, fixing a smile on his face and only half shooting Lydia a glare. After months of living with Derek, Stiles thought he was getting better at them, but she still entirely ignored it, giving the group a sunny smile and walking away.

“So, Stiles,” Danny said, his own smile widening in a way that was almost predatory. “You and Hale, huh? I really have been away.”

Stiles glanced at Derek, only to realize that, this time, there was no immediate charming response, which felt weird by now. Instead, Derek was glaring at Danny, unamused. “Um - we’re not. Together, I mean,” Stiles said, though it didn’t feel as vehement as his previous protestations and explanations throughout the night. He was thrown by the fact that Derek had shut down again. Maybe it was because Danny seemed so highly amused by the idea of Stiles and Derek together, but surely that was easy enough to clear up that it wouldn’t matter.

Eric was the one who broke the strangeness hanging over the group. “You’re not?” he asked, sounding surprised. “Pity - you make such a cute couple.”

“We what?” Stiles blurted before shaking his head, practically feeling the coldness coming off of Derek. “No. I mean thank you? I think. But we aren’t - we just live together.” 

“And have three kids. It really is kind of adorable,” Danny said, not able to hide his grin. “I always thought, but him I wasn’t expecting. Maybe Scott…” 

“Nothing with Scott. Stop. We’re not,” Stiles tapered off in a frustrated noise. 

“Stop thinking,” Derek all but growled at Danny, his voice low and just this side of overtly threatening. “Stop assuming. Life doesn’t always fit into neat little boxes.”

Eric stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Danny, the way that Derek had done with Stiles as he had spoken. “Hey, calm down, man,” Eric said, placing a hand against Derek’s chest. Stiles had to give the blonde points for sheer balls and bravery. 

Derek’s eyes were on Eric’s, glaring at him now, something close to his teeth bared. “I am perfectly calm,” Derek said, but his teeth were gritted. Just because Eric didn’t know better, Stiles caught Derek’s arm, pulling him back a little bit. This time, Derek went, leaning more into Stiles. 

Danny didn’t look afraid of Derek though. He knew enough that no one would do anything in a room full of people. “That box might make things easier,” he said softly, smile still on his features. 

“We’re good as we are, thanks,” Stiles said, not letting go of Derek’s arm. He pressed gently with the pads of his fingers, as he rubbed lightly with his thumb, his eyes half on Danny and Eric and half on Derek, watching to see whether he was calming down.

Derek calmed faster than he thought he could, giving in to what Stiles was doing and letting some of the tension drain out of his frame. He was still angry, still annoyed, but he was far less lightly to jump out and choke Danny out of spite. 

“Yeah I think you are Stilinski,” Danny said, taking Eric’s hand and starting away. “I need a new drink. Good to see you two again.” He was still almost laughing to himself as he left.

Stiles watched them go then turned to look at Derek, trying to catch his eyes. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Derek said. The tightness in his jaw and the way he avoided Stiles’ gaze said otherwise though.

“Sure you are, big guy. Come on - let’s get some air, before Lydia hauls us off in front of yet another couple she’s somehow found,” Stiles said, heading them toward the back yard again.

They took a seat on a lounge chair overlooking the pool. The air was chill, but not too cold. The water in the pool lapped quietly against the sides in the light breeze. “So - wanna tell me what that was all about?” Stiles asked him.

“Not really, no.”

“And you were doing so well! Seriously - I was reaching the point where I was going to have to look into the realities of body snatchers, because you - really turning on the charm there, Der-bear.”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek said, lowly.

“Sure. Point still stands. You were being all Mr. Charming and then suddenly there’s Danny and his new arm candy and you’re back to being the same old grouchy Derek Hale we all know and… well, you get the picture.”

“Yeah well, maybe I just don’t like the way that guy talks to you,” Derek said, words clipped and not really giving Stiles much to work with. 

“You don’t? It wasn’t any more than anyone else asking about us and what we are or trying to put us together so it makes more sense.” 

Derek huffed out a breath wishing he didn’t have to explain himself. “He seemed surprised. Like it didn’t make sense. Everyone else just thought we made sense.” 

Stiles couldn’t help it. His mouth just fell open, staring at the older man. “That’s it? That’s your issue? You got all… grrr… with Danny because he didn’t think _we made sense_? When - there is no us to actually make sense anyway?” Stiles asked, gesturing wildly with his arms, all wide eyed and not really getting any of that.

“He thought we were a joke. He thought it was _funny_.”

“Yes! Because this is Danny and he’s been pushing me about my sexuality since we were in high school and I was trying to figure everything out! He was all… sure about himself and I was… me. Then he left for college on the other side of the damn country and I haven’t seen him since! Then I show up with you and - and I don’t even know why I’m going into this right now anyway.”

Derek turned, looking at Stiles. “And what? How is it funny? And why aren’t you going into it?” 

“It’s not funny. I mean except it’s you and you’re so… _you_ and I’m me, so yeah it’s a comedy of errors.” Stiles ducked his head running his hands through his hair. “I’m not going into this now, here, and like fifteen minutes before midnight. I’m pretty sure I’m going into this never.” Not with Derek at least. “Just don’t worry. There’s no need to get all defensive on my behalf. If Danny wasn’t teasing me for something I would be more worried.” 

Derek looked at him, long and hard. “Do I even want to know what you meant by that?” he asked.

Stiles met the look with his own open-mouthed stare. _Yes! It’s vital to us, to our life together, to everything!_ He held Derek’s gaze for a moment longer then shook his head, looking away. 

“No. No you don’t.” 

Derek didn’t say anything at all for a few minutes, looking down at the ground. Then he lifted his head a little, half facing Stiles. “Did you want to go join the party for midnight?” he asked, quietly. His tone was subdued, even a little uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure what to do now.

Stiles didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be surrounded by couples as the New Year rang in staring at Derek awkwardly. At the same time, he didn’t want to sit here in uncomfortable silence either. He didn’t know what to make of Derek’s tone, the way he said the words like he wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do. Looking over his shoulder at the party, he shrugged. “Lydia probably expects us. And after tonight she probably owes us both a kiss. Right?” He was going with the joking tone even if he didn’t mean it.

Derek chuckled slightly. “It’s been... an experience,” he agreed. “What did she do? Specifically hunt down every couple in the area to introduce us to? I thought tonight had been meant to be fun.”

Stiles looked back at him, confused. “You seemed to get on okay. You were all…” he gestured with his hands. “Smiles and jokes and being Mr. Perfect. You looked like you were having the time of your life.”

Derek levelled a stare at the other man. “Stiles, you _know_ me. Can you honestly say that that me - the one in there - is how I actually act? That, in there, was _exhausting_. Right now, I don’t so much want a kiss off of Lydia as I do want to wring her pretty little neck for putting us through that.”

“Well no, but I thought maybe it was just me you seem so gruff around. Like I bring that out in you.” Stiles smiled a little, even if he knew Derek was right. He wasn’t like that even if he seemed good at it. “Well, don’t go choking her until I get my kiss in. I haven’t been kissed in years and you’re taking away my best shot. Guilt’s a powerful thing.”

“For you I’ll restrain myself,” Derek deadpanned.

“I appreciate it,” Stiles said as he got up and pulled at Derek’s arm. “Come on. We just smile for another half an hour and then I’ll take ya home.” 

Derek looked up at him, face straight, but green eyes sparkling in the half light. “Never have those words ever sounded so great,” he said, in relief as he stood and they headed back inside together.

\-----

Stiles had never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. It had been fun when his mother around - seeing his father dote on her for a day and enjoying sharing candy and making up little valentines for his classmates. After his mother had died, his father drank a little heavier and Stiles found himself more taking care of his father than enjoying the treats that got brought home. In high school it just served as a constant reminder of the fact that he was desperately single and it wasn’t getting any better. It wasn’t until last year, when he had a chance to actually make valentines with the kids - who had been strictly Derek’s kids then - that he kind of enjoyed it. At least as much as someone could enjoy fishing red glitter out of their hair for three weeks afterward.

This year though it seemed to weigh heavy on him. He’d avoided the required shopping for supplies and classroom valentines for as long as possible until Marcus and Maribelle physically dragged him and the cart with Evan in it into the aisle covered in pink and red hearts. They’d spent ten minutes arguing over which box of character valentines to purchase and Stiles ignored them, staring at the boxes of chocolates, stuffed animals, and sappy cards feeling at a complete loss.

“Are you gonna get dad a valentine Stiles?”

Marcus’ impeccable timing had Stiles jumping out of his skin and banging into the cart which thankfully only made Evan laugh, not burst into tears.

“What?”

“Are you getting daddy a valentine?” Maribelle chimed in, grinning widely. “My best friend Stacey said that her daddy is getting her mommy a card and chocolates and flowers and Stacey gets to have a sleepover at her Aunt Susie’s house because her daddy said that he’s taking her mommy out for dinner and there’s gonna be candles and music and I bet it’s gonna be really pretty.”

“So, you should get dad something,” Marcus prompted, far more bluntly than his little sister, who seemed happily lost in the idea of pretty, musical things.

“Marc - it’s not like that,” Stiles started, awkwardly, for what felt like the millionth time. “Me and Derek aren’t like Stacey’s parents. You get valentines-”

“-For people you love,” Marcus broke in, rolling his eyes and not giving an inch. “Yeah. I know. I get it. You love dad. Dad loves you. I don’t seen the problem here.”

Stiles tried hard not to groan in front of his children, in the store, while arguing over what the big deal was for Stiles to get Derek something for a stupid commercial holiday that was really a day celebrating a guy who had been brutally murdered. It was so simple to Marcus. He could just say that part where Derek loved Stiles like it didn’t come with a giant anvil attached to it. “We're not… Your dad and I aren't like that. Or this. Look? Would your dad even like this?” Stiles asked, holding out a pink stuffed bunny with a giant bow on it.

“Well no,” Marcus said. “But I’m sure there’s something.”

Evan reached for the bunny in Stiles’ hand, pulling it towards him instead. “Bun bun,” he babbled, participating as best he could in the conversation.

“Daddy would like it if you gave it to him Stiles!” Maribelle grabbed another bear holding a heart and handed it to Stiles. “Like my bear.”

“I don’t think that's how it works-”

“Are we staying at Pops’ Valentine's Day? Like Maribelle’s friend? I bet he’d love that.” Marcus had a dangerous look in his eye behind the completely innocent look on his face.

“What?”

“Can we stay at Pops’, Stiles? Please? Pleeeeease!” Maribelle said, bouncing up and down on her toes and then doing that little twisty pirouette she had been obsessed with since she learned it in ballet class two weeks ago, one hand holding out her skirt, the other still clutching the bear to her chest. “Pops always makes us popcorn and let’s us watch _Disney_ movies.” 

Marcus groaned, hitting his hand to his forehead. “We don’t always have to watch Disney, Mari,” he moaned at his sister. “There are much cooler things that we can do.”

“ _I’m_ gonna watch Disney. Anyway, Pops is teaching you that game with the horseys.”

“Chess, Mari - it’s called Chess and it’s really cool. Pops says that one day I’m gonna be better than him!” Marcus declared, proudly.

Stiles pressed his fingers into his temples. “You can stay with him if you really want but it doesn’t have to be that night. We don’t need a babysitter.” What were they going to do with a babysitter anyway? Go out with a million other couples? New Year’s had proved that they weren’t cut out for that.

“Are you sure?” Marcus asked, staring at Stiles pointedly like Stiles had missed something. 

“Yes. I am sure,” Stiles insisted, but his voice didn’t get there completely.

“You’re an idiot,” Marcus told him, sticking his chin out as he said that.

“Marcus! You can’t say that to Stiles!” Maribelle said, wide eyed and open mouthed in shock. “That’s mean and rude and you’re gonna be in so much trouble!”

Stiles stared Marcus down, not saying a word because he didn’t actually feel like he had the right. Sure, he did as a quasi parent figure, but this was about more than that. Marcus had made his feelings quite clear on the issue of him and Derek, Stiles was just left feeling like the boy was just making them clear to the wrong person. Like Stiles had some kind of an ability to just wave a magic wand and make everything the way that Marcus thought it should be. Life would be so much easier if he could do that. He couldn’t. So, he said nothing and hoped that a long hard look would do the trick.

As it happened, it did. Marcus scuffed his sneakers against the floor, eyes dropping to his feet. “Sorry Stiles,” he intoned, then looked up through his brows to see if he was really in any trouble.

“Okay guys, let’s just drop the subject of making valentine’s about buying people stuff. We’re here to get things so we can _make_ valentine’s. Right? Because we all know…”

“That the best presents come when you put the effort in,” Marcus and Maribelle finished, having heard that so many times before.

“Exactly! Come on.” Stiles steered them towards the supplies they needed and managed to wrangle the bunny from Evan with minimal tears. It wasn’t a proper fix and the whole _thing_ was still there, but at least he’d distracted them for a moment. Bullet successfully dodged with only minor damage. Sort of.

\-----

The dining room table was covered in glitter and cut up bits of paper and all of the other crafting supplies they’d bought at the store. Stiles felt like he was overseeing some kind of paper-based armageddon. Somehow, Maribelle had managed to get glue in her hair and Marcus was staring at a red heart cut out like it had personally offended him. Nothing was working properly and Maribelle seemed close to tears that the teddy bear she had drawn on her card looking more like a squashed cookie with a head. He didn’t even know that was possible, but it was kind of weirdly accurate. He hadn’t been going to say anything, but Marcus was blurt, as always.

“Don’t say that Marcus!” Maribelle had tears in her eyes and Stiles was trying very hard not to hang his head in utter defeat of the day.

“What? It does! How did you even do that?!” Marcus was being mean because he was just as annoyed with his own project. Stiles knew that. He was just about to call it when Derek appeared in the doorway, looking confused.

“Do what?”

“Daddy, daddy, Marcus made fun of my bear!” She jumped out of her chair and rushed to Derek pressing the still damp with glue valentine into his hand and looking up for some sort of validation.

“It looks like a-” Marcus started but Stiles gave him a very clear ‘shut up’ look and for once it worked. Maybe because Derek was there.

Derek gave Stiles a bewildered look, which the younger man returned with a subtle shake of his head. Derek looked down at his hand and peeled the valentine off his skin, holding it up and trying to figure out what it was, before just going with what Maribelle had actually said. He looked down at his daughter and flashed her a beaming smile. “That’s a great bear! What lucky person are you making it for?” he asked her.

That was all Maribelle needed, grinning again, tears forgotten. “It’s for Pops! Stiles said we could sleepover at his house for Valentine’s Day so he gets a special valentine!”

Stiles looked up shocked. “I didn’t say that at all,” he corrected.

“You said we could,” Marcus chimed in. “But that you didn’t need us to.”

“Well, has anyone actually asked Pops if he can have you?” Derek asked, using his ‘reasonable’ voice. “Maybe Pops is working. Or maybe he has a date.” Derek tried not to laugh at the wince, which Stiles was clearly trying to hide at the idea of his dad dating.

“I can ask him!” Marcus declared. “Can I? Can I call him, dad, Stiles? Please?” he asked, knowing he needed permission to use the phone.

Stiles shared a look with Derek. “It was their idea,” the younger man said, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain any further.

“Was it?” Derek looked amused as he asked. 

“Yeah! Because Stacey gets to go to her aunt’s! And we want to go to Pops!” Maribelle looked as if her logic was completely sound and Stiles was really hoping it wouldn't go there. 

Stiles shrugged. “I told them that it wasn’t necessary. I think they just want to go and stay with dad.”

“Mari likes his popcorn and he’s teaching Marcus to play chess. What’s not to like?” Derek asked easily, leaning his bag against the table. He turned to Marcus. “Go call Pops, ask him - nicely - if it would be okay for you, Mari and Evan to go stay on valentine’s. If he says no, then that’s no - no arguing, okay?”

“Yes dad!” Marcus exclaimed, beaming widely as he ran off to get the phone in a way that suggested the kid was worried someone would change their mind. It was only a couple of minutes later that he came hurtling back into the room, thrusting the phone at Stiles. “Pops says yes and he wants to talk to you!” he declared.

"Of course he does," Stiles said, staring at the phone before taking it and getting up to head towards the kitchen. "Hey dad, you need me?" he asked, trying to sound casual. 

"You know you don’t have to have the kids ask if you need a babysitter for Valentine's Day. What are you and Derek doing? Should I keep them overnight?" 

Stiles rolled his eyes, wishing that his father didn’t sound so _okay_ with things. Hopeful almost. "We don’t _need_ one. One of the girls in Mari's class was bragging about getting to go to her aunt's for date night and they got the idea and..." 

"So you’re not going out?" 

“No, Dad. We are not.” Stiles looked back towards Derek, catching the other man watching him. And probably hearing everything. 

“Oh.” Stiles cringed at how disappointed his father sounded. “Well, I’ll take them anyhow. You know I love seeing the kids and…”

“Dad.” Stiles’ tone stopped the Sheriff before he could finish that sentence. Stiles couldn't deal with his father expressing that hope that ‘maybe’ - especially not with Derek listening in.

The Sheriff was so quiet on the other end of the line that Stiles was sure he’d hung up. “I just want you to be happy Stiles.”

Stiles looked towards the ceiling, just so he didn’t look at Derek. “I am. Seven work?”

“Seven’s great. See you then.”

Stiles hung up before his father could say anything more.

“Everything okay?” Derek asked. Stiles wondered if he really hadn’t been able to hear the whole conversation, or if he was just being polite. He simply shrugged and moved round to talk to the kids, aware of Derek’s eyes tracking him all the way.

“So,” Stiles said, with faked cheer. “You’re all set up to go to Pops’ for valentine’s night. You better get on with making him something nice to say thank you!”

Derek wasn’t the only one watching Stiles. So while Maribelle cheered and picked up her valentine making with renewed vigor, Marcus just went back and forth between Stiles and Derek. “So what are you two going to do while we're with Pops?” he asked.

Stiles let out a frustrated sigh that he just couldn’t hold back and dropped down into a chair next to Maribelle, picking up the glue gun and decidedly helping her with her card. It was easier than trying to deal with Marcus on his mission. Let Derek handle it for once.

“Well, I don’t know,” the other man said. “I had been planning for us to have a family night, but I guess that’s out of the picture now.”

Marcus ignored Stiles’ sigh, still thinking what he’d said in the store even if he shouldn’t have said it. His other dad was being an idiot. “Now you can do something with Stiles that you couldn’t do with us,” he prompted instead, looking at the card he was drawing on with a marker as if he hadn’t just set his father up.

“That’s very true,” Derek responded, sounding like he was trying to be serious, but without being able to entirely keep the note of humour out of his tone.

“So, what are you going to do?” Marcus asked.

Stiles raised his head just enough to be able to take in the conversation, but still look like he was actually concentrating on help Maribelle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Derek’s face fall as he realised that Marcus wasn’t willing to just let the subject drop. “Um…” Derek began.

“You could take him out to dinner,” Marcus prompted.

Derek glanced at Stiles, distantly wondering if he’d been set up, but Stiles looked like he was trying so hard to not be a part of the conversation that Derek doubted it. Or at least he hoped as much. “We could do that. Or we could go see that movie that you wanted to see about the dragons…”

Stiles turned around doing his best to look nonchalant. It helped that Derek looked as awkward as he did right now. “Sure - dragons would be good,” he agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.

Marcus looked like he was completely torn between both wanting them to do something and have a plan and that the plan suddenly involved a movie that he’d been hoping he could talk them into taking him to. “I wanted to see the dragons,” he wound up murmuring.

Stiles twitched a smile at that. “Or, if Derek could take the afternoon off work, we could all go and see the movie about the dragons at the early showing and then we could drop you off with Pops after,” he suggested.

Maribelle's head shot up at that. “Me and Evan don’t want to see anything with dragons in!” she declared.

“Evan and I, dear,” Derek corrected, without thought.

Marcus made a face, not liking that he was losing this battle and Derek and Stiles were missing the point of his questions. “You don’t know what you want,” he wound up telling Maribelle, poking her side a little. “Dragons are _cool_. Evan likes dragons.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief because the subject seemed to have dropped for the moment at least.

“I can take the afternoon off,” Derek said with a smile. “Dragons then dropping them off at Pops. Which means you need to get to work on his thank you gift don’t you?” He tapped the table lightly to bring the kids attention back to their project.

_Sorry_ mouthed Stiles at Derek, over the heads of the children. Derek just smiled a little and shook his head, taking a seat on the other side of the table and starting to help Marcus with a new card, one that didn’t involve red hearts.

\-----

Stiles wasn’t expecting the scene he walked into when he got back from dropping the kids off at his father’s. He’d endured that stupid knowing look from his dad, saying that if the kids fell asleep he might just keep them overnight and meet Stiles and Derek for breakfast in the morning and Marcus all getting dangerously close to giving him a pre-date pep talk in the car. They were staying in, that much had been decided. New Year's was enough of a disaster to prove that neither one of them was so great with bro-ing it out in public while everyone was being a couple, so inside worked nicely. Stiles had made an extra point to wear his laziest t-shirt, something gray and two sizes too big, and a hoodie with a couple of holes in it left over from high school. He wasn’t making a big deal out of this. It wasn’t a thing. It was a night away from the kids that would probably wind up being pizza and reruns of The Office or Friends or something. Nothing fancy.

The scene in the kitchen was something else entirely. The table was set for two people. Derek was busy making dinner that smelled so much better than pizza or chicken nuggets or tacos. There was music playing. Wine was laid out - two bottles, one already open with a waiting glass for Stiles and just glancing at the label said it was the nice stuff. Derek always bought the nice stuff. He wasn’t getting drunk off of it anyway, so why not enjoy the taste. “Uhh,” Stiles stammered, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, not sure what to make of what was going on right that second.

“Hi,” Derek said, shooting Stiles a glance over his shoulder and then turning his attention back to the stove. Stiles headed over, craning his neck to try and see what it was that Derek was stirring so religiously. “The kids settle in okay?” Derek asked, reaching for the pepper and adding a little more.

“Um, yeah,” Stiles said, wondering if he looked as shocked and confused as he felt. He pulled at the sides of his hoodie, straightening it out and suddenly feeling like a slob that had rolled in off the streets. Derek looked nice. Not ‘I’m wearing my best clothes’ nice or anything, but... nice. Fitted, dark wash jeans and that grey Henley that was his fall back when he wanted to be presentable, but comfortable. “What’s... going on?” Stiles asked, stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

Derek cast another glance at him, apparently either not seeing the state of Stiles’ clothes, or politely deciding to ignore them. “I thought we could celebrate having a kid-free night,” he said, as though that were nothing - and as though that couldn’t have been done just with take out and TV.

“Oh.” Stiles wasn’t sure what else to say and struggled to fight the urge to run upstairs and change his shirt. Not that he owned anything that could keep up with Derek, but he could have picked the hoodie that didn’t have holes in it. “Whatcha making?” he went for, thinking he needed to say something. At least there was wine. Pouring a glass for himself gave him something to do with his hands that wasn’t flailing.

“A pea and scallop risotto to start with, then I picked up a couple of nice steaks that I thought we could have with a salad to follow,” Derek told him, adding some more liquid to the pan and carrying on stirring.

Stiles stared at his now full glass of wine wondering just what the hell this was. “Sounds a lot nicer than the pizza I’d planned on ordering,” he said knowing he needed to say something. That was a really nice meal. And the wine would be great. Derek was good at picking something that tasted good. He turned, letting himself indulge in watching Derek's back while he cooked, wondering what else he should say that wasn’t asking if this was a date. It felt like a date. “Can I do something to help?”

“You could make up the salad,” Derek suggested. It wasn’t fair, Stiles decided. Derek was acting like this was just another night, and he hadn’t just put together the perfect romantic evening. All that was missing was candles and flowers. He moved to the fridge and got out the salad stuffs, taking his frustration out on the lettuce as he tore it up into pieces and rinsed it.

“You okay?” Stiles jumped as Derek asked the question. He glanced quickly over, taking in the raised brow and confused look before dropping his head again, dumping the lettuce into the nicer of the salad bowls they had as he nodded. “M’fine. Just... this is really great. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know. I wanted to. I figured we earned it right?”

“Right,” Stiles agreed, lamely. _Did we? Did we really earn this? This? On valentine’s? What is this anyway?_ He mentally shook himself, he needed to stop thinking for once in his life. There was no deeper meaning here, and if he went looking for one, he would just be fooling himself. He should just take what he was offered and be happy. “It is nice - the house being so quiet. Knowing that we’re going to be able to sleep without Maribelle coming down and wanting an extra bedtime story.”

“It’s nice now that you’re here. When I was alone it was getting a tiny bit eerie,” Derek corrected. “I don’t… like being alone all that much,” he confessed. “I did it when I had to, but, right now - I don’t really know how. That said, knowing that they’re not gonna be waking us up in the morning for breakfast. But you’re right. It is nice.”

“She wakes me up for breakfast,” Stiles said. “You get to sleep in until you can smell it cooking.”

“Well, she’s woken both of us up before.”

Stiles arched a doubtful brow. “Really? Since I moved in, just how many times has she woken you up first by choice?” he asked. He knew the answer already - exactly none. Stiles was the ‘morning daddy’.

“Alright fine. She hasn’t that I remember, but when you fall asleep on me on the couch out there and she comes to wake you up, she’ll get me too. Not to mention, I usually wake up when they come get you anyway.It’s not like I can’t hear them in your room.” Derek smiled a little to himself.

“Oh, sure - blame the super-sensitive hearing,” Stiles mocked, relaxing more now that they were into what had become familiar banter lately. He leaned against the countertop, resting the wine glass against his chest, brown eyes sparkling with mirth as he watched Derek. There was a reason that he just couldn’t even consider giving any of this up.

“What can I say - I was just born this way,” Derek joked back, bending to get the plates from the oven, where they’d been warming.

“And I was born infinitely better at making pancakes than you. You don’t see me complaining.” And maybe Stiles watched Derek move, not pulling his eyes away instantly like he normally would. Who was going to catch him doing it anyway? Derek? Derek wouldn’t even realize it.

“You were just complaining that you’re the one who gets woken up for pancake duty.”

“No, I was saying that you can’t use it as something worth celebrating because it’s not your burden to bear.”

“Then maybe we’re celebrating you,” Derek suggested.

“Me?" Stiles’ surprise was clear.

“Yes, you. For being the pancake guru, the homework helping god, the ballet kit angel. The guy who makes this whole thing work.”

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He shifted on his feet a little, not able to make eye contact, but covering it with drinking a large gulp of his wine. “I guess maybe I do, but they… they adore you. you’re the one they want to be like.” Though he had to admit, it felt good to know what Derek had noticed all the things that Stiles had managed to get good at in their time together.

He couldn't help but smile to himself until Derek nudged him with his foot, plates in both his hands. “Dinner’s ready,” he said nodding towards the table.

It felt a little strange, taking a seat and having Derek serve him, but at the same time, Stiles could deny that it was thrilling, even if none of it was real. “This smells great,” he told Derek.

“Here’s hoping it tastes as good,” Derek said, refilling Stiles' glass and his own.

“Don’t see why it wouldn't.” Stiles waited until Derek settled before he dug into his food, making a face that was more of a compliment than the words spoken through a full mouth. “This is awesome. We need to eat like this more.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Derek scolded, not really thinking of the fact that he’d done it. “And this is not easy to with cook three kids running around.”

Stiles swallowed his mouthful before he spoke, though he was already gathering his next forkful of the delicious whatever-it-was. “It’s not easy to cook. You know me - salad king. Beyond that, I’m lost.”

“Sure, you always had the whole health kick thing going with your dad, but there’s more to food than lettuce to balance the take out,” Derek joked.

“We’ve been living off kid friendly food for, like, a year now,” Stiles reminded him, meeting Derek’s eyes as the other man smiled a little.

“Yeah, I know. Or, well - seven months since you officially moved in.”

“Come on, we both know I was living with you all for longer than that, even if it was most nights on the couch,” Stiles retorted, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“I should have just let you come upstairs,” Derek said, without missing a beat.

Stiles almost dropped his fork, trying not to read more into that that he should. “Yeah, well your loss.” That sounded flirtatious. He was trying to flirt with Derek. He needed to stop.

To Stiles’ utter frustration, Derek just nodded, not betraying anything of what he was actually thinking as he said, “Probably yeah.” 

Stiles swallowed hard, reaching for his wine and taking a large sip to try and rid himself of his suddenly dry throat. He had no idea what to say, and he didn’t trust his voice to say anything at all anyway. In the end, he just stared, just about managing to put his glass back down without spilling.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles intently, as if he were trying to read his mind.

“Why don’t you have a date for tonight?” Stiles blurted. “Why are you even here? Having dinner. With me?”

Derek frowned at the question. “I’m not seeing anyone,” he said plainly. “Plus, we talked about this. I’m not interested. I don’t need anyone else in my life.” He waited a breath before going on. “I could ask you the same question.” 

Stiles laughed at that. “You and I aren’t even in the same league. I just... you could have anyone. All you need to do is ask. Show interest. Me…” Stiles shook his head. “That's not my life.”

“Why because Lydia didn’t say yes? Ever wonder if you’re showing interest in the wrong people? You could get someone. Probably without trying. Half the daycare thinks you’re adorable. You could have easily found a date tonight. And I can’t get anyone. Plus I don’t want anyone. We went over this. If rather be here. With you.”

_Why?! Why would you rather be here with me?_ Stiles knew he would never be brave enough to demand an answer, or even to ask the question aloud. He was too scared to hear the answer, to be told yet again that he was nothing special. But it was there, itching under his skin, the not knowing eating away at him until he snapped with frustration. “I don’t want anyone from daycare! Someone burdened down with their own kids!”

Stiles realised what he'd said, moments after the words left his mouth, as Derek's fork clattered to his plate.

Derek was quiet for a moment and Stiles instantly tried to backpedal. “I don’t mean-” he started but Derek cut him off. 

“I get it. They're a burden. We know that. That's why we were celebrating right? Lucky for you we aren't together.” Those were words Derek usually let Stiles say, let him insist one way or another. Stiles knew Derek’s opinion - Derek wasn't interested in dating. Dating had gotten him three kids. Three kids that didn’t need someone else shoved into their lives. 

The food suddenly tasted like ashes in his mouth. Stiles looked stricken. “I didn’t mean them,” he said, almost pleading. “They’re not a burden. They’re never a burden. They’re.. they feel like my kids. I know... I know they’re not, but I can’t help the way I feel.”

“They are yours,” Derek said, but his voice was quiet, almost strained. He gave up on his food and went for his wine, wishing he could get drunk. He swallowed a large gulp before he spoke again. “I was just trying to say you could have anyone you want. I just want you to be happy Stiles.”

Stiles quirked a crooked half smile. “That's so sweet. Wrong, but sweet. Not about the kids thing - about the ‘I could have anyone’ thing. History kinda goes against that, right?” he said, downplaying himself, but it was the truth as far as he was concerned.

“There have been people,” Derek corrected, with a frown.

“Sure - that I can count on the fingers of one hand.” Stiles caught the look on Derek’s face. Like he’d kicked Derek’s puppy, or entirely upset his world view. Stiles sighed. “I’m not unhappy, Der. I'm like you - I don’t need anyone else. I have the kids. I... have you.” It felt like a risk, saying that, but he said it anyway. Derek could interpret it any way he wanted.

Derek gave Stiles a curious look at that. “There’s a big difference between not unhappy and happy.” 

“I wouldn't be happier anywhere else,” Stiles told him, softly. He watched, trying not to look like Derek’s reaction was important to him. He probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. As it was, emotions played across the other man’s face. None that he could really identify. There were moments that he allowed himself something approaching hope, only for it to be crushed within moments. He ended up simply more confused.

“Good,” Derek said with a nod. Stiles had no idea what to make of that. Then Derek added, “I wouldn't want you anywhere else.” Stiles sucked in a breath and then bent his head and went to scoop up some more of the risotto, only to find that he'd finished it sometime whilst they'd been talking. He looked across and saw that Derek's plate was also empty. 

“That was great,” he offered, standing and collecting their plates, grateful to have something to do. It stopped him from just sitting there, staring across the table like this was some kind of romantic evening. How could he not want that, when Derek was saying the things he was.

“Thanks,” Derek said. He got up as well reaching for the plates in Stiles' hands, but Stiles pulled them away.

“You cooked. I can manage cleaning up,” Stiles insisted, knowing he needed to do something with his hands. “Enjoy your wine.”

Stiles escaped to the kitchen, hoping that some time alone would allow him to refocus and screw his head back on straight. This was just another day in the calendar. Just because it happened to be February fourteenth was entirely irrelevant. He’d had dinner with Derek before. Pretty much every night for the last few months - discounting that horrible period when they were hardly talking to one another. This was nothing special. Even if it felt like everything special.

He had even managed to almost convince himself of that when Derek appeared next to him. There was a soft clink as the other man set Stiles’ wine glass down within his reach. Then Derek leaned his hip against the counter, just out of reach. “I was thinking we could watch a movie or some tv or something later. If you want,” Derek said.

“I could go for a movie,” Stiles agreed, not looking round. That sounded more like how he had imagined tonight - just slobbed out in front of the television, without all these really confusing mixed signals that he was currently having to deal with. He was definitely down with getting things back on a more normal setting.

\-----

Much to Stiles’ dismay, the setting wasn’t really normal. Derek had helped with dishes, drying things that didn’t go into the dishwasher and putting them away, always lingering close to Stiles. That was normal in a kitchen with three other people in it, but with just the two of them it felt personal. But a movie on the couch, that was fine, Stiles could do that. 

Only then the argument over what movie and the attempts to snatch the remote out of each other’s hands had left Derek settled in watching slightly a dramatic, slightly sappy movie (instead of Mr. and Mrs. Smith for the thousandth time) right next to Stiles. His shoulder was bumped up against Stiles’, his leg half touching Stiles’ leg. The couch was big enough for five and they were practically curled up next to each other. Stiles was sure he couldn’t breathe and had no idea whatsoever was going on in the movie.

He glanced over at Derek for what felt like the thousandth time, wondering if he had actually been reading this entire situation wrong. Yet the other man seemed engrossed in the movie. Surely he had to be aware of the way that Stiles’ heart was hammering in his chest? He decided he had to do something, and so he shifted, leaning more into Derek, testing to see what the other man would do.

Derek looked up ever so slightly at the extra contact, but made no move to lean away. “Is the movie okay?” he asked, voice quieter so he wasn’t talking over the dialogue. “I know usually you prefer a gunfight, or a chase scene…”

“This is good,” Stiles said, deflating slightly at the way that Derek’s focus was so clearly on the screen. He was about to move away, but then the older man shifted, turning a little to relax into the corner of the couch. It left Stiles with the only natural position being to lie fully against Derek, resting his head on the other man's chest. Stiles closed his eyes, mostly ignoring the movie now. This was nice. He could hear Derek's heartbeat, slow and firm. He was warm and firm and everything he wanted. He felt Derek start to trace light circles on his shoulder and he almost laughed - he wasn’t sure whether it would have been with hysteria, or relief. In the end, he did neither. He brought an arm up to rest against Derek’s chest, smiling a little into his side and letting himself drift. He didn’t care about the film. Not any more.

\-----

Derek wasn’t even thinking about Stiles being against his chest until he realized Stiles was asleep. He probably could have woken him up, but the movie wasn’t that far from being over and he wanted to see the end so he just let Stiles stay there, warm and comfortable against him until the credits rolled. He didn’t know what to make of it, Stiles curled against him like he was, but it was the same as the it had been in the cabin. It just felt better than the hour before when they’d been arguing over dinner.

He looked down at the sleeping figure, stroking the short, dark hair back off his face. Stiles looked so young when he was asleep. It was the only time that the other man was actually still. Derek didn’t want to wake him, but it was getting late. He pushed gently at Stiles’ shoulder, whispering his name, then saying it a little louder when there was no response.

Stiles simply muttered something incomprehensible and burrowed further into Derek’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. It was… precious. Derek figured that he should probably mind far more than he did. He surely shouldn’t actually like it, yet he did.

“Let’s get you to bed, you idiot,” he muttered, squeezing his way out from under Stiles and standing. Turning, he stooped to pick Stiles up, an arm under his knees, the other round his shoulders, and started toward the stairs. He’d call the Sheriff once Stiles was tucked up in bed, arrange to pick the kids up in the morning.


	6. Spring

A lot of things could change in a year. Derek, perhaps more than anyone, was aware of that. Death, life - even resurrection, he had seen it all. You could never rely on anything to stay the same.

Coffee was waiting for him in the kitchen when he walked down the stairs. He had had a leisurely shower, actually shaved for once, and was well rested and ready for the day. Stiles was already sitting at the table, with the three children, talking about what Marcus and Maribelle were likely to be doing at school that day. Derek crossed to Evan - who was actually eating his cereal, rather than trying to decorate the room with it, and settled down next to him. They had a sort-of-conversation, with Derek talking to Evan like he was an adult, the way he always had done, and Evan responding in a mixture of made up sounds and the ever increasing number of actual words he now knew.

Breakfast was by now a relaxed affair - a far cry from the hideous nightmare of stress and panic it had been twelve months previously.

“I’m going to be a little late home tonight,” he told Stiles, once Evan had finished his breakfast and Derek was clearing up. “I’ve got an email about an emergency meeting. Can I get you to take Maribelle to ballet?”

“Sure - I’ll call Jake’s mom - ask if Marcus can hang out there for a few hours after school. That okay with you, buddy?” Stiles said, checking with the boy - who clearly didn’t have any problem with that arrangement. Derek knew how much his eldest son hated sitting through his little sister’s ballet lessons.

“Great. Everyone wins,” Derek said with a smile. “Get your things,” he told Maribelle and Marcus. “Five minutes till we go.” It was such a nice change, seeing where everything had been laid out the night before, backpacks, ballet things, Marcus’ school project. Even Evan’s diaper bag was packed and by the door, just waiting to be grabbed.

“You need anything at the store? I’ll probably go this morning to get it out of the way.” Stiles helped put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

“No, I’m good,” Derek said. “Oh - but we’re nearly out of ketchup and could you get some more of the decent orange juice if it’s on sale. Don’t worry about it if it’s not - it’s not worth the extra price.”

It was all so comfortably domestic. A far cry from how his life had been. Derek considered that a marked improvement. Right now, with all of this - three children and a guy who didn’t have a definition - he was happy.

“Ketchup and OJ,” Stiles said with a nod, scribbling on a list that he’d already started. He flashed Derek a smile as he pocketed the list, bumping against him as he passed to grab Evan from his high chair. It was just a casual touch, something Derek had realized they did more, and it didn’t seem to bother anyone. It certainly didn’t bother him and Stiles seemed comfortable, which was all Derek wanted.

“Two minutes,” Derek called out again, hearing giggles and feet pounding towards the door from another part of the house. “So...I’ll see you tonight?” he asked Stiles who was nodding as he got Evan ready. “I’ll be here. Just don’t be surprised if Marcus tries to weasel into staying at Jake’s house as long as he can. Plus his mom usually would rather you come get him than me, so I figure she’ll be willing to keep him until you get out of work.”

Derek groaned. “You can collect him. I don’t think I can deal with Rosemary tonight.”

“You think it’s any easier for me? I have to deal with this... look of utter disappointment and disdain whenever she opens the door and it’s not you standing there.”

“Yeah, well, I have to deal with her thrusting her chest half in my face!”

“Oh, you poor wickle thing. However do you cope,” Stiles teased. Derek glared at him, only for Stiles to laugh harder.

“M and M! We’re leaving!” the older man hollered up the stairs. “You’re on Marcus duty, or I’m just not gonna come home,” he told Stiles, pointing a finger at him as Marcus and Maribelle came bowling past. Derek looked at Stiles pointedly, then followed after the children. He wasn’t going to hang around for Stiles to give him excuses.

“You wouldn’t do that. You’d miss me too much,” Stiles called after him. Derek made a face before rolling his eyes and shutting the door. He wouldn’t deny it, but he wasn’t completely going to let Stiles win that one. Even if it was true.

Stiles watched the door shut with a laugh before scooping Evan up and holding him up high as the toddler giggled. “He would miss me,” he told Evan, and as if the child knew he needed confirmation Evan giggled again and held his hands out for Stiles.

“Mish, mish.” It was a little slurred, but Stiles was sure Evan was right.

“Come on little guy. Big day ahead of us.”

\-----

Lydia, as always, arrived in a flourish of color and fashion, dropping into the seat across from Stiles at the coffee shop. The place was new in town, an attempt at a real live cafe, though everyone pretty much still ordered the standard cup of coffee. Lydia’s no-fat whatever latte something or another was in her hand, making the plain cup in Stiles’ look silly. It wasn’t even loaded with sugar anymore. A year of living with Derek and Stiles had wound up drinking his coffee plain black. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, though it was less to Stiles and more to Evan who was already reaching for Lydia and her curls.

“We don’t mind,” Stiles answered for both of them, rolling his eyes a little at the way that Lydia focused on the baby. She was so cute with Evan, seeming to have a soft spot for the guy that she didn’t quite have with the other children. “So what’s up?”

“What, I can’t call you and suggest we have coffee without a motive?” Lydia asked, trying to look innocent.

“You always have a motive.”

“Maybe my motive is to see my friend and his adorable little boy,” Lydia said - that last bit said in a cutesy voice to Evan.

“Idya!” Evan laughed in response, smiling widely as she took him and bounced him on her knee, setting him calling for his favorite games.

Stiles made a face at her. “Alright maybe I can see you inviting me out just to play with him. You do know you can babysit him if you want. Take him off our hands for a few hours.”

Lydia looked up from where Evan was reaching for her hair and smiled a little too brightly at Stiles. “So you and Derek need some time away from the kids?”

Stiles frowned again. “Because we get tired too.” He didn’t like that look.

“Or is it more that you need some alone time?”

Stiles sighed. “Stop reading in, Lyds. You can’t just shape the world the way you want it to be.”

“Why not?”

“Because things don’t work that way. _People_ don’t work that way.”

Lydia tilted her head at Stiles, watching him for a long moment. “Are you telling me you aren’t desperately in love with him?”

“Lydia, no. Shut up.” Stiles felt his cheeks go warm and he looked away from her, fiddling with Evan’s things that didn’t need fiddling.

“Stiles, you followed me around in love for years. I know what it looks like.” That was just confirmation that he was still as obvious as ever. He really thought he’d reigned it in somewhat.

“Doesn’t matter. Even if I was, which I’m not saying I am -“

“You are.”

“Shut up. Even if I was, it’s like I said. You can’t fit things into a neat little box when they don’t fit.”

“You don’t think Derek’s in love with you?” Lydia asked with a tone that dared Stiles to contradict her.

“Not like you want him to be. It’s more like a friend. Like with Scott.”

Lydia arched a perfectly plucked brow. “Scott’s not in love with you,” she said, sounding somewhere between bored and long suffering. “He loves you. There’s a difference.”

“And again, I ask: what do you want, Lydia?” Stiles responded.

“I want to know when you plan on doing something about it,” Lydia said, but she was looking at Evan. “Doesn’t little Evan deserve two proper daddies and not a daddy and his not-boyfriend?”

“Lydia,” Stiles said shaking his head again. “I’m not doing anything. There’s nothing to do.” He went quiet for a moment thinking of the way he’d fallen asleep against Derek on Valentine’s Day. Like it was nothing. “I’m not going to risk everything.”

Lydia’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “You mean you’re not going to risk _anything_ ,” she practically hissed. She held the gaze for a second, and then she was right back, cooing over Evan as though nothing had happened.

“No, nothing. Not a thing. He’s fine, I’m fine.” He was lonely. But that was fine. He’d get over it. It was just a thing. He’d move on. Or maybe eventually Derek would fall in love with him too. Like Stiles wanted. He really needed to stop randomly hoping for that.

Lydia shook her head. “Well if you’re not going to do anything maybe you need to go out with someone else. There’s a nice girl at the office. I’d offer up the guy who works in the mailroom, because he’s precious, but I just found out he has a boyfriend so you’re out of luck there.”

“I’m not interested,” Stiles told her, shaking his head.

“You don’t even know what I’m offering.”

“Yes, I do. A girl at the office - and I’m telling you, I’m not interested.”

“So, have you decided that it’s just guys from here on out, because I know I remember a time when you weren’t sure.”

“No, it’s just...”

“...That they’re not Derek? Seriously, Stiles, you have to deal with this. Either he’s available to you. Or he’s not. If he’s not - you have to move on.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s not just about Derek.”

Lydia raised that eyebrow again and Stiles wished he was mad enough to smack her. He wished she wasn’t so damn right. “How is it not just about him?”

“Because it’s not. It’s the kids too. How do I start dating when I’m living with someone and helping raise his kids? I don’t want to stop doing that.”

Lydia watched him for a long moment then reached out for his hand. “Stiles. You can’t wait around forever. You need to make a decision.”

“What if I’ve made a decision?” Stiles questioned.

Lydia sighed, shaking her head. “To wait around forever? On the off chance he’ll change his mind?”

“He’s not dating either!”

“So, is that it? If Derek dates, then you will too? Do you have any idea of how much like a bad nineties teen movie you sound at the moment?”

“It’s working for now!” Stiles knew she was right. Damnit Lydia was always right.

“And what’s that going to be like? He’s Derek. When he starts dating it’s going to be easy. He’s just going to go out there and bang half of the daycare moms.”

Stiles winced because he knew she was right. Not that he thought Derek would do that, but it would be that easy. “I don’t want to date anyone else.”

She looked at him, sighing for him. “You’re a mess Stiles.”

“At least I’m consistent?” he suggested to her. “So, what? Your plan is that I just… find someone who’ll date me, just because?”

“When was the last time you got laid Stiles?”

“That’s hardly any of your business!”

“Okay fine, last time you kissed someone.”

Stiles all but growled at her, something he’d picked up from Derek. “It was supposed to be you at New Year’s but you dodged it.”

“Because you were with your boyfriend and I know better than to make him jealous.”

“You’re the one that just said he’s not my boyfriend.”

“You know what I mean. It’s been over a year hasn’t it?” Stiles could tell from the look Lydia’s face that his face had given him away. He couldn’t even lie about it. “Right. So maybe you find someone who’ll date you so you can do all those proper adult things and not just spend your life pining after someone.”

“Okay, let’s say for a _moment_ that I go on a date? What exactly am I going to be talking about? Oh - my three kids. Who aren’t _really_ mine. They’re the kids - sort of - of _the guy I live with_. Who, no, I’m not involved with, even though I’m probably going to spend a good ninety percent of the date talking about him and the kids. Hey - aren’t I just a great catch!”

“You have other interests,” Lydia pointed out. “You still read books and watch movies. And it’s a _date_. You aren’t supposed to talk. You’re supposed to tell her she looks pretty, ask her about herself and listen. Then pay for dinner.” Lydia said all of it matter of factly, as if Stiles had been doing it wrong forever. “And you don’t mention the fact that you’re a lot bit into the guy you’re living with.”

“It feels like lying.”

“Welcome to the world of dating, Stiles.”

“That’s really cynical,” Stiles observed. Lydia just gave him a withering look. “Fine. Cynical. Unfair. Vastly unfair.” He took a breath, held it, and then let it out, slowly. “ _Fine_. Give me her number. Just - please. Tell me I’m not going to break her heart if this doesn’t work out.”

Lydia pulled out her phone and brought up the contact. “You probably will, but that’s just who you are Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles stared at her like she was insane, but she just laughed. “The first time you actually managed to take me out, you were everything I wanted Jackson to be. And you told me off in order to get me to dance with you. I just wish the night had ended better.”

“Better’s an understatement. You almost died.”

“And you still saved me.”

Stiles didn’t have an answer to that. He had. Or he’d tried to. Jackson had done the heavy lifting. He wasn’t sure if Lydia had ever noticed. Or known the truth. Clearly, it was mostly just a fact to Lydia as she continued, “Just take her number. Call her. Put on that shirt I picked out and have a nice time.”

“I’ll try.”

\----

“I’ll be back before midnight,” Stiles promised, adjusting the shirt and running his hand through his hair once more. The kids were in bed, and he needed to leave in the next five minutes if he was going to be on time.

“You don’t need to give yourself a curfew,” Derek said, his nose buried in a book. Stiles would have said that the other man didn’t care at all about the fact he had a date tonight, only there was a tension there. Stiles didn’t know whether he was imagining things, but it almost felt as if Derek was trying too hard to not care. It was probably his imagination, he decided. He just wanted Derek to want him, if only in jealousy.

“Yeah well...” Stiles trailed off because nothing he wanted to say would make sense. He didn’t want Derek to worry. He didn’t want Derek to think it was going to be an all night kind of thing. He didn’t want Derek to think he actually liked the girl. None of it would work.

“You’re going to be late,” Derek supplied for him, making Stiles feel like more of an idiot. Derek could date too if he wanted to couldn’t he? Why did this feel like cheating?

“Are the kids going to be okay with this?” he blurted, rather than leaving.

“They’re in bed,” Derek pointed out.

“Which is just another way of saying, ’no’. They’re not. I shouldn’t go. I should just call the whole thing off.”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek said, though this time he put his book down so he could see Stiles.

“But you were thinking it. This is stupid.”

“You can’t blow her off five minutes before you’re supposed to leave,” Derek said his tone even, but Stiles was sure that he heard something. Like he heard Derek stress a little on the ‘her’. Maybe that was in his head. “They won’t know.”

“I don’t even know what I’m meant to say. What? ‘Hey, I’m Lydia’s friend - the one who can’t even get his own dates’? I just… I shouldn’t go.”

“Go, Stiles. Leave. Take the girl out for dinner.” Derek sounded annoyed now, though he was hiding it well. “Stop acting like you think you have nothing to offer someone. She’s the lucky one.” 

Stiles was going to come up with another reason why he shouldn’t go, which wasn’t the real reason, but what Derek said had him stopping in his tracks. “She’s lucky? How? It’s me.” Did Derek really think some girl was lucky to go out with him? 

Derek looked at him, mouth open. “You seriously just asked that question? You?”

“Um, yeah? With the me, and the me?” Stiles said, looking at Derek, steadily. “Not… exactly like catch of the month. Or week - hour, even.”

“You’re an idiot.” Derek shook his head and got up heading to Stiles. 

“You sound like Marcus.” 

“We are both right,” Derek took a moment to fix Stiles’ shirt. “Real, responsible, well-dressed and handsome. You are a catch.” 

“You think so?” Stiles asked, internally cringing at the edge of hope in his tone and the fact that he wanted Derek to think about him like that. Who was he kidding? He wanted Derek to want him. He wanted Derek to tell him not to go. He would stay home in an instant if Derek just asked him to.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow, but not quite taking his hands completely away from Stiles’ chest. 

“Well... There were a couple of times when you omitted the truth which is almost the same thing...” 

“About this, since we’ve been toget- since you moved in, have a I lied to you?” 

Stiles made a face and shook his head. “No.” Why didn’t he just say not to go, They could go on like this, right? Couldn’t they? 

“So I’m not lying now. I do think so. Go have a good time.” He patted Stiles’ chest and Stiles swore the touch lingered, only then Derek was turning him around by the shoulders and pointing him towards the door. “Stay out as late as you want.” 

Stiles took a breath and steeled himself. This was it. He had a date. Derek was never going to happen. He had to let that go and move on. With his date. He glanced back over his shoulder and offered Derek a crooked smile. “Don’t wait up,” he said, before heading out the door.

\-----

It was late, well past midnight. The kids were asleep and Derek was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, like he wasn’t listening for the door to open and close again at all. Yet, the moment that it did, he was up, hanging around by his door, waiting for Stiles to come creeping up the stairs.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked, as the other man rounded the corner - and jumped about a foot in the air, slipping and almost falling backward down the stairs, only saving himself by grabbing hold of the bannister.

“Jeez, Derek!” Stiles hissed. “Way to scare the life out of a guy! You were meant to be asleep? Why are you up? Did I wake you? You’re all...” Stiles straightened up and gestured at Derek. The older man was dressed for bed - which meant just a pair of cotton pajama pants, his chest and feet bare. “Did I wake you up? I did, didn’t I? You were sleeping - though, you don’t look like you were sleeping. Your hair’s more... not like that, when you’ve been sleeping”

Derek tried not to feel the tiny pang in his chest when Stiles pretty much admitted that he knew what his bedhead looked liked. “You didn’t wake me up,” he said shaking his head. “How did it go?” 

Stiles looked like he expected Derek to give him more about why he’d been awake, not just ask the same question again. He shrugged though, looking more at the ground and his feet than Derek. “Went good. She’s really nice. I took Lydia’s advice and let her talk about herself instead of trying to talk about me and spend the night blabbing about the kids and...” Stiles trailed off, but didn’t pick up the sentence again. Instead he just headed for his room. “Why are you up?” 

Derek followed him, not even giving a second thought to wandering into Stiles’ room and shutting the door behind them. So that their talking didn’t wake the children, of course. “Are you going to see her again?”

Stiles jumped again when Derek closed the door as if he really hadn’t been expecting Derek to follow. Why, Derek had no idea. They weren’t going to talk in the hallway. “Um, probably? I mean she wanted to and I...” Stiles made a face and looked anywhere but Derek. “I want to.” 

“That’s great,” Derek said, though he felt a little uneasy about the situation. “What’s she like?” he asked.

“She’s nice.”

“Nice? Is that it? There must be more to her than that, or you wouldn’t be seeing her again,” Derek pushed. Maybe if ‘nice’ was all Stiles could come up with, then this woman wasn’t right for him.

Stiles stared at Derek hard for a long moment and Derek held his gaze trying to figure out what the younger man was thinking. “That’s not it,” Stiles finally said, looking away again and pulling at his shirt to untuck it. “She’s cute, pretty smart, and she laughs at my jokes. She’s friendly.” 

That still didn’t sound like much. “Anything else?” 

Stiles puffed out a breath loudly and continued to look anywhere but Derek. “She likes me.”

Derek growled a little, that that even made the list. “Of course she likes you,” he said. Stiles really needed to get it through his thick head that he was worth it. Her liking him should have been a foregone conclusion. The question was whether she was worthy of him.

Stiles turned around to glare at Derek. “No. Not of course. It was a blind date. She could totally not like me. No one said she had to. I’ve spent a lot of time liking people that don’t like me back. It’s like a natural state for me.” 

“Maybe you just have bad taste,” Derek said, sullenly, folding his arms across his chest and hunching slightly. Stiles wasn’t meant to be able to do that - to be able to make him feel bad with just a look. The death glare was his thing - except that he hadn’t been able to get it to work on Stiles in forever now.

Stiles eyed Derek harder, letting his eyes actually roam over the other man. It was enough to have Derek folding his arms a little tighter, protecting himself. “Yeah, yeah I do.” Stiles shook his head and turned away. 

Derek felt like a real jerk - to say something like that and have Stiles just agree with him. He took a few steps forward, laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly.

Stiles hung his head and pulled his shoulder forward, enough that Derek’s grip slipped and he pulled his hand back. “I’m really tired, Derek,” Stiles said, sounding suddenly drained. “Could you just... go. Please.”

“Stiles-” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off by taking another step away. 

“Go Derek.” 

Derek felt like he’d been punched in the gut, hard. The last thing he wanted to do was go, but he knew he needed to. Stiles never talked to him like that. He’d only say it if he meant it. Derek needed to respect that. He hesitated again, but eventually headed back towards the door, and back to his room to grab a shirt before he headed downstairs. He wouldn’t be able to sleep now without picturing Stiles like he had been, shoulders hunched, head hung every time he closed his eyes. He might as well get some work in if he was going to be up all night. 

\-----

Stiles had gone out with the girl a couple more times. Derek knew that much at least. He’d even come home smelling like someone different once, which had Derek assuming things were getting physical in some way. Then one night he came home looking miserable and didn’t go out with her again. Derek tried to bring it up, ask what happened and Stiles blew him off with nothing more than a ‘we didn’t want the same things’ that sounded more like ‘she dumped me’. 

Derek felt bad about it, because he wanted Stiles to be happy, but he was relieved it hadn’t worked out. Stiles began to force normalcy on them, as if he was trying to make up for something and Derek reveled in it. He felt better sitting on the couch with Stiles after the kids had gone to bed than watching Stiles leave for another date. That was how it should be. 

He’d let Stiles pick the movie that night - which resulted in something with lots of chase scenes and explosions. Not the kind of thing to really hold Derek’s attention, but Stiles was entirely engrossed in it. Derek was relaxed back against the arm of the couch, trying to keep up with who was chasing whom through some South American jungle, using moves that were entirely unrealistic and would have resulted in the sheer exhaustion of both parties in no time at all, when all of a sudden, the lead runner literally ran off a cliff. Derek rolled his eyes as the man plunged to his death in the raging river below, but Stiles gasped and shifted forward on the couch, clearly transfixed.

Derek glanced over to the other man. Stiles was sitting on the edge of his seat. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clutched to his chin as he chewed on the side of one interlaced finger. Stiles always insisted on watching movies in the dark, and now the light from the screen flickered over his face, highlighting angles Derek had never actively considered before. The line of his cheekbones. The upturning of his nose, the edge of his lips and those long, long lashes around wide eyes. The utter fascination on his face as he watched a dumb, pointless movie.

Derek stared, his suddenly dry mouth falling open a little as he felt his heart begin to thump wildly in his chest. He had done this a thousand times. Countless nights, just like this. And yet, at the same time, none like this at all because suddenly everything made sense. The world tilted on its axis, abruptly changed - and fell perfectly into place. Stiles was beautiful and clever and funny and caring and compassionate and worth so, so much. And, more than that, Derek felt it in the pit of his stomach. That overwhelming sense that was, pure and simply, just _MINE_.

Except... he wasn’t.

Stiles wasn’t at all. Stiles had been clear on that. He’d started dating. Yes that hadn’t gone anywhere, but the door was open for more and Derek wanted nothing more now than to slam it shut. He didn’t want to share. He wanted to reach for Stiles now, grab him by the arm and drag him closer, keep him against his chest like he had been before. Still, Derek didn’t move. He wasn’t sure what to do at all.

Derek shifted on the couch uncomfortably, body and mind torn between silence and action, not at all sure what would be the best choice or how he was supposed to decide when clearly Stiles wasn’t his to take. The motion pulled Stiles’ attention from the film, looking at Derek curiously. “You okay?” he asked and Derek nodded weakly, giving him a half smile. 

Stiles grimaced, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “You hate this, don’t you?” At Derek’s silently confused response, he gestured toward the TV. “This - I know you’re just sitting there being all ‘nobody moves like that’ and ‘that’s the wrong kind of plant life for that area of the world’ and ‘seriously? Why would anyone do that when this-fill-in-the-blank plan is so much better’. It’s okay - I release you. You don’t have to watch this with me. I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Derek shook his head sitting up more, even if brought him closer to Stiles. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. I know you like it.” 

“Yes, but you hate it,” Stiles corrected, leaning back against the couch, movie seemingly forgotten for the moment. 

“I could use something with a little more thought to it.” 

“There’s a double cross!” 

“That you saw coming five minutes into the movie. You said it, five minutes in. ‘Derek, I bet this guy is the bad guy’.” Derek chuckled to himself a little then leaned back on the couch as well, shoulder touching Stiles’, which felt like a shockwave through his system. 

“Yeah well, it’s technically the same movie over and over again. You watch it for the scenery. Or the hot girl. Or dude. Whatever.” Stiles looked over at Derek and smiled. 

Derek smiled back, mirroring the expression because it made him want to smile, just seeing Stiles smile. How could he have not seen it before? He was an idiot, clearly. he signs had all been there, but he had failed to put the pieces of this particular puzzle together before now. “You could expand your horizons,” he suggested, belatedly, hoping that he hadn’t just been staring at Stiles with a dopey grin on his face. “Watch different movies.”

“I let you pick every other one!”

“And half of them you fall asleep through!” Derek was teasing lightly, lighter than usual and for half a second it looked like Stiles got it, like he noticed it. But it was just a flicker across his face before Stiles was shaking his head. 

“No I don’t. I only fall asleep in the boring ones. Which should tell you something.” 

Derek pushed at Stiles’ shoulder, something that was usually so normal between them that suddenly felt like something else completely. Stiles made a show of falling over even if Derek hadn’t pushed that hard, smirking up at him from where he was now sprawled on the couch. “You act like that because I’m right,” Stiles said smugly. 

“You’re not right.” 

“I am.” Stiles looked over as he reached for the remote and turned the movie off, then rolled off the couch, pulling at Derek’s shirt. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

The words rang in Derek’s ears and he had to remind himself that Stiles didn’t mean it like that. They’d said that to each other so many times and it had meant nothing like that way his mind had interpreted it just now. Not even when they were quite literally sharing a bed had it meant that. Unhelpful mental images filled Derek’s mind, fuelled by the very real vision of Stiles lying, spread out below him a moment ago, only in his mind there were far less clothes involved. Derek shook himself, and stood, maybe stepping a little too close to Stiles as he did so, subtly breathing in the other man’s scent.

Stiles stumbled back as Derek invaded his space, one hand going to the other man’s chest, but not making contact. He was still smiling, but keeping his safe distance. “Next time, promise, you can pick the movie. I won’t even complain. And I’ll stay awake and deconstruct it at the end with you. Just don’t make it something really sad okay?” 

Derek took a step back, feeling the rejection there, even if it wasn’t like that. It was just another reminder that Stiles didn’t think of him that way. A reminder of something he already knew. Stiles was his friend. His best friend. The man with whom he was raising three children and Derek would do nothing to upset that situation. The kids would be devastated if Stiles left - and that was exactly what would happen if Derek made life uncomfortable. “Okay - maybe a comedy?” Derek asked, after a moment or two.

“Comedy sounds good.” Stiles paused then spoke again, giving Derek a look as they got to the stairs. “Wait. Are we talking like Will Ferrell comedy or like dark, confusing comedy? Because those are two different things.” 

“We’re not watching Anchorman again,” Derek said, rolling his eyes and trying not to think about how much he liked looking up at Stiles when Stiles was two stairs above him. It left him thinking of other ways that Stiles could be above him and that was something he was determined not to think about. Stiles didn’t want the same things. 

“Man! Come _on_! Anchorman is _awesome_!” Stiles protested, lowering his voice as they got to the top of the stairs.

“Anchorman is comedy for the lowest common denominator, Stiles,” Derek said, flatly, making sure to keep his gaze on socially acceptable parts of the other man. Case in point, the latest in a long line of baggy t-shirts. Stiles really needed to upgrade his wardrobe - maybe Lydia… Derek stopped that line of thought. He was not allowed to get Lydia to take Stiles shopping, just so Derek had a better view. God, his brain was already packing its bags and moving out.

“Which is _why_ it’s always funny,” Stiles insisted, turning in time to catch Derek staring at his shirt. That earned Derek a curious look, but he did his best to ignore it. There was no need in going into that or acting like it had happened. Like it might happen again. 

“You’re smarter than that,” Derek finally said, slowing his steps as they got to Stiles’ bedroom door. He hadn’t even been in it all that many times, and half of those times he’d mostly stuck to the doorway. Last time he’d been in there, he’d been told to leave. That still stung.

“Well yeah, but I can’t be smart all the time. Sometimes I just want to laugh at something stupid. Just like you can’t be serious all the time.” Stiles gave him a teasing look then opened his door, taking half a step inside. “See you in the morning?” 

Derek wanted to stop Stiles, or just push him forward and follow after him. It would be easy. It wasn’t like Stiles could overpower him, but Stiles wouldn’t want that. So Derek didn’t do it. He just nodded. “Where else would I go?” 

Stiles quirked a grin, dropping a wink. “Exactly,” he said, as he closed the door. Derek slumped back against the wall, running his hands through his hair.

Fuck: he was so screwed.

\-----

He couldn’t do it.

He had been up all night and that was the conclusion he had come to.

Last night, he had been all ‘I can’t risk it’ and ‘he’ll never be interested’. Full of determination to maintain the status quo and keep his feelings well hidden.

That had been until the moment that he had walked into the kitchen and caught Stiles singing nursery rhymes with Evan, while he fixed Maribelle’s hair. It was such a simple, domestic scene, but - this was his family. _His_. He wanted it all, right down to the very last. How could being with Stiles ruin this? The kids adored him. Hell, they all but called him daddy already. They had made their opinion on the younger man’s role in the household very clear. The only question remaining was whether Stiles was interested. The only way Derek could actually ruin this was by making a move if he wasn’t interested. Which - he probably wasn’t. Derek’s luck had always run that way. He had long since given up on expecting the good stuff, but that didn’t seem reason enough not to try. He just… shouldn’t be direct about it.

He could do something discreet. Put the idea out there without actually saying it or doing something drastic and let Stiles warm up to it. It was just a natural progression right? Just like how Derek ruffled Stiles’ bed head as he passed him for coffee, it could be something more. It could be him running his hand down Stiles’ bare neck, pressing his mouth against exposed skin. It could get him the same smile the hair tussle got him. Maybe something more. 

Subtle. He could do something subtle. This was their family, it could fit in one of those little boxes that he and Stiles had insisted it wouldn’t. “Were you going to the store?” he asked, looking at the list in Stiles’ handwriting that was sitting on the counter. 

Stiles stopped singing and looked up with a nod. “I was. You need something?” 

Derek nodded slowly then took the list. “Do you care if I go? I need to pick up a few things and don’t want you to have to mess with it.” 

Stiles gave him a curious look but shrugged. “Works for me. Evan and I can go to the park instead. He likes that more than he likes trying to grab things off the shelves in the store.” 

“You lie,” Derek teased. “There’s nothing in life Evan loves more than grabbing things off the shelves in the store. I almost got accused of shoplifting a few weeks back.”

“Oh, dad would have just loved that one!” Stiles crowed.

“Trust me, if it happens, I’m handing Evan over to your father. Let him deal with the little thief,” Derek said making a face at Evan that just made him and Maribelle giggle. 

“Who’s a thief?” Marcus asked, coming to the table with a dramatic show of yawning like he wasn’t wide awake and dressed. He even reached for Stiles’ coffee cup, but Stiles moved it out of the way in time. 

“Evan,” Stiles told him. He patted Maribelle’s shoulder, letting her know her hair was done, then got up to get breakfast. 

Marcus looked disappointed in not getting to the mug in time, but he didn’t say anything. “What did he steal?” 

“Nothing yet,” Derek said. “But he’s getting closer. We’re going to have to teach him about that before he can properly talk.” 

Marcus grinned widely. “Or we could not - I could get loads of cool stuff and…”

“And Pops is the Sheriff,” Stiles cut in before Marcus could really get up steam. 

“So?”

“So, imagine being grounded for the rest of your life, and then having to tell Pops why,” Derek said.

“And that’s the good version of that story, where Derek and I find out first,” Stiles added.

“The bad version is that Pops finds out, or one of the people who work for him. And Stiles and I have to come pick you up from the station, because Pops has had to lock you in one of those cells down there.”

Marcus made a face like that didn’t sound like fun. The Sheriff had given them a proper tour of the station once and he hadn’t liked the cells. And both Stiles and Derek had confirmed that sitting in them for an extended period of time wasn’t fun. 

“I say we just leave him there,” Stiles told Derek, which made Marcus’ eyes go wide. 

“Not a bad idea,” Derek said. 

“I won’t do anything!” Marcus insisted, jumping up in his seat. “I won’t!” 

“Sit down,” Derek scolded, watching Marcus sink into his chair with a small scowl. 

“I wouldn’t do it.” 

“Good.” Derek finished off his coffee, then stood. “Okay, M and M - three minutes, then we’re leaving for school. I’ve got some things to gather, so I’ll meet you by the car.” He glanced over at Stiles. “I’ll see you later,” he added, in a softer tone, giving the man a small smile, which was returned by a slightly more puzzled one.

“Sure - later,” Stiles agreed, in an amusingly confused tone. Derek got why - they didn’t much go for stating the obvious when it was just another day. Derek took the older kids to school. Stiles either looked after Evan if he was free, or delivered him to daycare. They had a routine, and that routine didn’t involve ‘see you later’, any more than it involved a kiss goodbye.

And now Derek wished it did involve that kiss. 

\-----

Derek had spent three days trying to telepathically convince Stiles that they needed to be more than just roommates or whatever the hell they were. He’d changed the way he spoke to Stiles, the way he touched him, all of it and all he’d been met with was nothing but pure confusion from the younger man. It pushed Derek into unnatural silence - overtaken by nerves and concern that Stiles really didn’t want to the same things until they filled him completely, pushing him to take out the big guns. To try something a little less subtle. 

The Sheriff had given him a look as he dropped off the kids, clearly not believing Derek’s lie about having to work and Stiles having plans, especially when the kids brought their sleepover things. Though in Derek’s defense, that had been all Marcus. He just wanted an evening. Marcus insisted on a night. The Sheriff spared Derek the lecture or a threat about hurting his son though, passing most of that on with just a look and Derek had the early evening to prep a kid free house. 

When Stiles walked in it was Valentine’s Day all over again, though this time with real intent, not the accidental scene that Derek had created that night. This was planned. Stiles’ favorite meal was cooking, the music playing was soft and not distracting, the bottle of wine was as nice as it got, and Derek was wearing a new shirt. He was trying. He just needed Stiles to notice. 

Stiles definitely noticed something, given the way that he stopped short when he entered the kitchen. Derek looked round at the clink of Stiles’ keys as he set them down on the counter, taking in the wide eyes, the open mouth and the way that Stiles appeared to be rooted to the spot. Stiles wasn’t good at ‘still’ though, and he recovered after a moment.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “Have I forgotten something special? It’s not my birthday. Or your birthday. And… are the kids in bed? It’s - how did you get Marcus to go to bed this early? And when all this is happening?”

“Kids are at your dad’s for the night,” Derek said, trying to sound casual about it and not like it was the total set up that it was. “Nothing...special really. Just us.” That sounded as awkward as he had feared it might, but he supposed there was no taking it back now. Or avoiding the way Stiles just arched a brow at him, clearly confused. 

“Ooookay,” Stiles drawled, crossing to the stove and checking out the pans. There was a moment, and then the younger man turned on his heel and stared at Derek. “This - this - this…”

“Your favorite, yeah,” Derek confirmed, looking at Stiles steadily.

“I don’t get it,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “You’ve barely talked to me for _days_ and now I come home and it’s all… This. Are you okay? Is something going on? Because, you’re acting really strange and - I notice these things, okay? When something’s out of character. You have to watch that shit.”

Derek smiled a little, dropping his head as he managed not to laugh. Stiles had his reasons for his paranoia, and they weren’t funny. The fact he was worried was amusing though. “I’m not possessed, Stiles.”

“That’s exactly what you say when you are possessed!” Stiles threw his arms up in the air, eyes filled with concern. “What was it? What can possess you? Something huge I think.” 

“I’m officially cutting you off from all horror movies,” Derek said gently. “I swear I’m fine. I just...wanted to do something nice. For you.” 

A smile slowly built itself on Stiles’ face. “For me?” he asked, his eyes lighting up as he accepted that. “That’s…nice of you,” he added, with an uncertainty that Derek hoped he would be able to banish before too long.

“Right - so, why don’t you go sit down and I’ll finish up here,” Derek prompted, taking Stiles by the shoulders, turning him around, and giving him a gentle push toward the table.

Stiles went, taking the seat at the table that would allow him to watch Derek finish off in the kitchen. Derek glanced over once, as he collected the plates. Stiles was sitting, resting his chin in a hand, watching Derek with a strange kind of smile on his face. He immediately looked away as he realized Derek was watching, dropping back into his chair and running his hand through his hair. “No way you’re cutting me off from horror movies though, dude,” he said. Derek winced at the name - he and Stiles had never used that term. It was so… friend-ly. He didn’t want them to start now. 

“They give you nightmares,” Derek said trying not to sound like he knew that all too well. 

“They do… Okay maybe they do sometimes, but my life sometimes gives me nightmares, so that doesn’t work as justification.” 

“Stiles, just eat,” Derek said nudging the plate a little closer to him. Stiles had that weird smile again, the one that Derek couldn’t explain, but the moment he saw it, Stiles seemed like he was putting it away, hiding it from him. 

“You made my favorite food, how could I not?” Stiles asked, picking up a fork and launching into a long monologue about Maribelle’s class project in between bites. Derek just listened, the way he always listened to Stiles’ tales, but this time with the extra level of fascination and appreciation that he had no idea how he’d missed before. Not just with what Stiles said, but the way that he said it. The animated way he put his all into everything, even if it meant that he almost knocked over his wine glass at least twice, and he spilled sauce down the front of his shirt.

Stiles wound up finishing the story as he tried to pat his shirt dry with a napkin, looking up at Derek with a smile that faded into confusion yet again. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You’re staring.” He looked down at his shirt again, making a face. “It’s not that bad. I’m just clumsy.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. Your shirt’s fine. We’ll wash it.” Part of Derek was tempted to demand it immediately, take it off Stiles and not let him have anything back, but he refrained by picking up the now finished dishes and starting back towards the kitchen. 

“Hey! I can help with that!” Stiles jumped up after him, following close behind. “You cooked. I can clean up.” 

Derek put the dishes on the side and then turned, quickly enough that Stiles all but slammed into his chest. There was a moment where Stiles was trying to take a step back and seemed almost off balance. It probably would have come to nothing, but Derek took advantage anyway, sliding his arm around the other man’s waist, as if to hold him up, but also bringing him closer and holding him there. “I did most of the clean up earlier,” he murmured. “These can go in the dishwasher, then we’re good.”

Stiles’ face all but screamed panic. Derek could hear his heart rate go up almost instantly, feel the way Stiles half leaned into his arm as if testing it, but not trying to get away. “I can get them,” he finally said, but the words were breathy like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say them or he couldn’t quite say them. For another long moment Stiles was just there, so close and obviously trying to focus on breathing and then he was ducking around Derek, hand on his shoulder to spin the older man so he could get to the dishes. “If that’s all there is that’s easy.” 

“Stiles,” Derek started, pulling at Stiles’ shirt to get him to come back, but Stiles was determined, his hands on dishes, the dishwasher, everywhere Derek didn’t want them to be. Derek knew he should be worried about messing things up for both of them, but it felt like he was past the point of no return, pulling at Stiles again after the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher. “Stiles.” 

“Stiles what?” Stiles demanded as he turned, back against the counter, trying to stay out of Derek’s reach, but Derek still had a hand on his shirt. “Stiles what? Tell me? What’s all of this? What’s going on?” 

Derek opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. Or, probably more accurately, he was terrified to come out and say it. Instead, he ended up frozen, staring intently at the other man, trying to telegraph everything through some combination of thought and expression, hoping that he would just… know.

It didn’t work. Stiles took a step back, pulling himself and his shirt out of the hold. “Get a grip, Derek. You have something to say to me? Then come out and _say it_. Until then… stop playing with my freaking head, okay? Just… stop.”

“Stiles,” Derek said hating that it was the only word that would come out of his mouth consistently. He swallowed once then reached for the other man to keep him from leaving the safety of the little bubble they’d created in the kitchen. “I’m not playing with your head.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes overly dramatically, trying to get out of Derek’s grip again, but he wasn’t trying very hard. “Yes, yes you are. Just like before. Just like every damn time. You are. You’re charming and handsome and for once focusing it on me and not the moms at daycare or ballet and then you say something cruel or you don’t talk to me for three days and no. Definitely not letting you do this again. I can’t take it. It _hurts_.” 

“I don’t want it to hurt, Stiles,” Derek said, pulling Stiles in more, rather than allowing him to escape. “I’m sorry - if I did that before. If I did that ever. I never meant… To be cruel?” His tone turned to one of pained disbelief as he said that. He could feel it, tearing at the center of his chest with the very idea that Stiles thought him cruel. The feeling only intensified as Stiles barked a hollow laugh.

“Of course you never meant it,” he said, his eyes reddening as emotions chased their way across his expression. “You just… have no freaking idea. No clue. Ever. And that? Just makes it _worse_.”

Derek felt like he screwed this all up long before he even realized he wanted to try something, to put what he was feeling about Stiles into action. “What if I said I had a clue now?” 

Stiles let out that same humorless laugh and shook his head. “I wouldn’t believe you. You don’t. You might have a clue about something, but not what I need you to have a clue about. We’re not talking about it ever, remember?” 

“That was your decision, not mine,” Derek countered, relieved that when he pulled at Stiles again, Stiles shuffled half a step closer. “Tell me about it now.” 

Derek actually closed his eyes and exhaled in relief as Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the world. He wrapped his arms around the other man, as Stiles muttered, “I don’t want to ruin things.”

“You’re not going to ruin anything,” Derek assured him, resting his cheek against Stiles’ hair.

“Oh, you don’t know that. It could ruin everything.” Stiles’ voice was quiet, just barely a whisper and Derek started to worry that the whole moment might disappear. As if fate could hear his concerns, Stiles pulled back, out of Derek’s arms until he was leaning against the counter, twisting his fingers in his hair. “This. Us. It’s not just...Nothing to me. It hasn’t been.” He wasn’t looking at Derek, but Derek could still see the way his cheeks had gone scarlet. 

Derek shook his head, moving in closer to Stiles, one hand on the counter next to him. “It’s not nothing, Stiles. It’s everything.” 

Stiles stilled, then he raised his head and looked Derek in the eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

Derek didn't say anything at first, just returned that gaze. “Stiles, I…”

“No,” Stiles interrupted, holding up a hand. “Tell me _exactly_ what you mean.”

Derek gave Stiles a dirty look for a moment before resting the other hand on the counter on the other side of of Stiles. “I mean you. You’re everything. I have almost everything I could ever want. Perfect family, perfect house, great life. It’s just missing one little thing.” 

Stiles met his gaze, not flinching in the slightest at the fact he was now practically pinned in place. “One little thing, huh?” he asked, his tone turning a little cocky. Derek could almost see his confidence growing, and it was a wonderful thing. “Well you already have a live in nanny so... ugfh.” Derek cut off the joke in the most effective way he could think of. He kissed him.

For a second Stiles just froze against him, but only for a second. Then Stiles was grabbing for him, pulling Derek in, a hand in his shirt, the other on his neck, tugging him closer. Derek went willingly, leaning in to pin Stiles against the counter with his body, pressing them close together, a hand slipping along Stiles’ side, by his ribcage.

Everything was warmth and passion, hot and desperate. Stiles’ scent filled Derek’s world as they battled for dominance for a moment, before settling into the kiss, the fight put aside for now as Stiles moaned into Derek’s mouth and Derek buried a hand in Stiles’ hair.

“Marcus is going to be happy,” Stiles murmured against Derek’s lips, not drawing back as he spoke.

“Is he?” Derek murmured between smaller kisses. He was still worried about the kids, what they would say, what they’d think. Or how they’d even explain it. He drew his fingers across the back of Stiles’ neck, grinning as the other man shivered. 

“Yes. He kept trying to set us up. Valentine’s was all him. He’s been harassing me about being crazy about you for months.” 

“It’s been months?” Derek ducked his head to drag his teeth against Stiles’ jaw, feeling the other man jump and gasp. 

“Months. Since before I moved in. Damnit. You’re an idiot. You didn’t even know. Everyone else knows.” 

Derek pulled back so he could see Stiles face, nodding slowly. “I am an idiot.” 

“I’m glad we agree. But you’re my idiot,” Stiles said, pulling Derek back for another hard kiss. His. Derek felt that in his bones, belonging to Stiles, and Stiles belonging to him. 

\-------

Stiles was in a fluffy, happy heaven. Somewhere well after dinner and before they’d fallen asleep in Derek’s bed, he and Derek had decided not to tell anyone about their relationship changing. There was always that chance that the whole thing wouldn’t work out, and the last thing they wanted to do was break the kids’ hearts. It just seemed like a better idea to keep the whole thing under wraps until they were a little more sure about what came next. 

Despite the fact that they were keeping it a secret and waiting until the kids went to bed to be together, they were _together_. All of the doubt, the fear, and the pining that Stiles had been carried around for months was gone. The smile that Derek was giving him over the breakfast table was the same one he’d given when Stiles snuck out of his room at some ungodly early hour so the kids wouldn’t know. It took everything in him to keep from blushing as he thought of their time together. Perfect. Just like Derek had wanted. 

“Five minutes,” Derek told the kids as he got up to clear up the dishes, and Marcus and Maribelle dashed off to get their things. 

Stiles hung back, standing and joining Derek by the sink, out of sight of Evan, though the little guy hardly had the words to really tell anyways. “Hey,” he said, softly as he reached out, placing his hand on Derek’s hip, urging him silently to leave the dishes.

Derek didn’t exactly need a whole lot of urging, though he did cast a glance toward the door to check for the two older children before abandoning the dishes entirely. “Hey back,” he said, smiling in a way that seemed natural, like it came easily. He let his fingers slip under Stiles’ shirt, kissing him lightly. “How did you sleep?” 

It was hard not to grin like an idiot with Derek looking like that and the way his fingers played against his skin made Stiles shiver. This wasn’t exactly easy, hiding it, but mostly because Stiles wanted nothing more than to touch Derek constantly. The older man was a cuddler, something Stiles realized, hadn’t fully understood until real touching had become an option. “Awesome. How could I not? You gonna be gone all day?” 

“I think that I could probably get away for a few hours around lunch, if you’re free,” Derek said, reaching up to fix Stiles’ hair, then running his hand down to play with the hairs at the nape of the other man’s neck.

“Lunch sounds good - I could pick something up. Unless you wanted to go out?” Stiles knew he sounded hopeful. He really didn’t want to eat out. He wanted Derek home, just the two of them. Alone. It was possible that the food wouldn’t get eaten.

“I don’t want to go out.” Derek had that look, the one that meant he was thinking the exact same thing that Stiles was. Stiles made a note to pick up something that could be taken with Derek when he left to go back to work. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Stiles pulled Derek back to him, shorter than usual because Derek was in his shoes and Stiles still barefooted. He kissed him hard, a hint of what might come later. 

“Dad!” Marcus sounded scandalized, but at the same time he couldn’t hide the humor in his voice. 

The two men sprang away from each other, as if burned. Derek grabbed a cloth, as though he thought he could cover that kiss by starting to wipe down the counters, whilst Stiles just turned a deep red color. “I thought you were meant to be waiting in the car!” Stiles exclaimed, his voice at least two octaves higher than usual.

Marcus was obviously trying to hide his grin, but he wasn’t as adept at it yet. One day though, he’d figure it out and they’d all have to put up with it. “Dad just said five minutes.” He went to sit at the table so he could still see both men. “What were you doing?” he asked innocently, like he didn’t know. 

Derek dropped the cloth and levelled his son a look. Stiles swallowed a laugh at the fact that apparently Derek’s glares still worked on Marcus, at least. “You know what we were doing,” Derek told Marcus, clearly not willing to entertain the child’s teasing.

“But you told all of us that you guys are friends. Our family’s different to most?”

Stiles ran a hand over the back of his neck, looking to Derek to answer that one. They had said that and at the time it had been accurate. Now it seemed silly. 

“We’re still different,” Derek pointed out, because that wasn’t going to change. They were just slightly less different. “And Stiles and I are still friends.” 

Marcus gave Derek the most skeptical look Stiles had ever seen which was impressive considering Stiles had grown up with Scott and Scott had that look permanently plastered on his face. “Doesn’t look like friends.” At least Marcus sounded happy about it, still trying to hide that grin. 

Stiles glanced between Derek and Marcus, then took a step closer to Derek and determinedly took his hand. “We’re still friends as well,” he corrected. “That’s okay, isn’t it, buddy?”

Marcus hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “So - you love dad now then?”

Stiles blushed because he realized he hadn’t said it yet. Not out loud. Which meant that both Derek and Marcus were staring at him, waiting on his answer. He looked at the ceiling, then his feet, then finally at Marcus before letting out a resigned sigh. “I always did. So yeah.” 

Stiles could feel Derek staring at him, and he didn’t dare turn to look at him. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to let Derek know how he truly felt about him. Definitely not this early in their fledgling relationship either. Marcus, though, wasn’t finished. He grinned widely and turned his attention to Derek. “And you love Stiles now then, right?” he pressed.

Derek managed to pull his eyes away from Stiles to raise an eyebrow at his son. At least Marcus seemed happy. Stiles felt Derek’s eyes land back on him, but he still couldn’t look at him. Not yet. Derek didn’t have to say it. It was too early. Derek just figured out that he wanted him, let alone loved him. That was too much to jump to right away. “Yeah Marc. I do. That okay with you?” 

Stiles was sure he’d heard that wrong. There was no way. He looked at Derek finally and Derek just smiled softly at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I do,” he whispered softly. “You should have told me.” 

“I didn’t think-” Stiles started but was interrupted before he could finish the thought. 

“Why haven’t we left?” Maribelle was in the doorway of the kitchen looking at everyone confused. 

“Dad and Stiles are in love,” Marcus told her plainly. 

Maribelle rolled her eyes and huffed, hands planted at her waist. “Well, _duh_. We’re going to be late for school and AnnaMaria and I are gonna trade stickers.” She marched back out of the room, leaving all the guys just looking at each other.

Marcus burst out laughing, closely followed by Stiles. Derek eventually grudgingly joined in.

“I think she’s spending too much time with Lydia,” Stiles said, shaking his head. He squeezed Derek’s hand then pointed him towards the door. “Go on. Get going. Don’t upset the princess. She’s got serious stickers to trade. I’ll see you at lunch.” 

Derek leaned back to kiss Stiles. “I’ll be here,” he said, smile back in place. “Come on Marcus, time to go.” Marcus jumped up, bouncing alongside his dad as they left. 

\-----

Derek was exhausted, but it was the best kind of exhausted. It was the one that came with Stiles laying on his back at an angle next to him, his head propped against Derek’s chest, lunch good and ignored in favor of getting Stiles into bed the moment he’d walked in the door. He was casually running his fingers over Stiles’ stomach, just enjoying his breathing, sensing how close he was to falling asleep. “So always huh?” he asked smiling to himself. Stiles had said he was crazy about him, but in love with him? That was the best kind of crazy. 

Stiles groaned softly, draping his arm over his face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up. That wasn’t exactly how I meant to tell you. I was still trying to decide if I was going to tell you at all. Not how I feel, I would have said that part - but not the part about being stupidly in love for months with a guy who’s an idiot.” 

Derek rolled onto his side and pulled Stiles’ arm down, intertwining their fingers. “I am such an idiot,” he agreed. “But - I got there in the end. Now I just have to work at making it up to you.”

Stiles blushed again, looking at their hands before he shrugged. “I think you did just make it up to me,” he murmured. “Twice.” He let out a sigh, obviously nervous, his heart pounding a little harder than it had been moments before. “But yes, always. Since like… when I moved in.” 

“I can do better than that. Treat you right, how you should be. Get you out of that other room.” Derek kissed Stiles’ fingers, smiling to himself. “I should have noticed.” 

Stiles grinned. “Are you asking me to move in with you? Like - actually asking me this time. Not leaving me a random note?” he teased, faking a coy expression and looking at Derek through his lashes. Derek growled and pounced, sending them tumbling across the bed as he kissed that expression off Stiles’ face and pinning the other guy to the bed.

“Yes,” he said, when they finally came up for air, Derek now over Stiles, looking down at him and loving seeing him half wrecked and splayed out on the bed. “Yeah, I’m asking you to move in with me. Properly. Here. Our bed. Our room.”

Stiles opened his mouth to answer, but for once he didn’t have anything to say. After a moment of struggling he wound up nodding. “Yes. That. All of that.” Derek loved that face, the way that Stiles looked so… his. 

“Good. We’ll move your stuff tonight.” Derek kissed him again, letting Stiles pull him closer. “Love you,” he murmured against his mouth, causing Stiles to deepen the kiss, moaning his reply as he hooked his ankles around Derek’s legs.

Derek realised there was no way either of them were going to be heading back to work that afternoon. He should probably call in and clear his schedule. Just… not right now. Not when Stiles was doing that thing with his tongue.

\-----

Derek was unaccountably nervous, pulling at the collar of his shirt and feeling like it was three sizes two small. He carried a basket of various containers of food over one arm and was leading Evan with the other. Now that the little boy was walking, they were trying to encourage that as much as they could.

“Stop twitching,” Stiles whispered to him as they rounded the corner into the yard at the Stilinski house and Marcus and Maribelle ran off to play. 

“I can’t help it,” Derek hissed back.

“You look like you’re going to your funeral!”

“Yeah, well - I know we agreed that we’d tell everyone when they were all together, so nobody complained about not being the first to know, but…”

“But what?” Stiles asked him, as he gave an overly bright smile and a wave to Melissa at the other side of the yard.

“But I _know_ your dad owns a shotgun. More than one. A whole damn station full of them. And I’m… you’re his only child!”

Stiles stifled a laugh with the back of his hand. “You really think he’s going to shoot you? Also when was the last time that shooting you actually put you down?” Derek half growled at Stiles for laughing at him, but it just made Stiles chuckle more. “Don’t make that noise. Or we’ll be missing the cookout,” he warned with a teasing smile. He squeezed Derek’s arm, seeming so much more assured than Derek felt. Derek felt warm, like it was ten degrees hotter than it should be. “Dad’s gonna be fine. Happy even. He won’t shoot you.” 

“Just because a bullet won’t kill me, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell,” Derek ground out. He actually figured that knowing that a shot wouldn’t be fatal only served to increase the likelihood that Sheriff Stilinski would take out any issues out on his hide.

“He won’t shoot you,” Stiles repeated, drawing a hand soothingly down Derek’s bicep and then stepping away as Lydia appeared.

“Hi, Stiles. _Derek_. Let me help you with those,” she said, brightly, giving Stiles a significant look that wasn’t lost on Derek. He shot Stiles a smirk as the petite woman took the food off Derek and headed off to place it on the table.

“Go on, follow her,” he said to the other man. “Then she can tell you all about how comfortable I look, with you touching me. And ask if you’re absolutely sure that you don’t stand a chance with me. You said that was pretty much her line, right?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and scowled, playfully. “Something like that, yeah. Go - say hi to dad. Get yourself a beer. _Socialize_. If I find you glowering in a corner, because you’re too scared of what people are gonna say, then I’m moving back into the spare room, buddy.” He pointed at Derek, though he was laughing as he walked backwards, following Lydia.

Derek looked down at Evan. “So, big guy, wanna go find Pops?” he suggested.

“Pops! Wan’ Pops!” Evan agreed.

Derek let Evan lead the way to the Sheriff who was already smiling and holding out a fresh beer for Derek to take before he scooped the gleeful toddler up. “How’re you doing son?” 

Derek shifted slightly, actually looking to see if the Sheriff was carrying a weapon despite his casual attire. “Well. Really well.” 

“I swear, this one grows every time I see him,” the Sheriff said, ticking Evan under the chin, eliciting a stream of giggles.

“He’s a good eater sir,” Derek agreed, throwing back a swig of beer in the hope it’d calm his nerves, even though he knew that it had no effect at all. He paused, lowering the bottle again as he caught sight of the look the other man was giving him.

“Since when have you called me ‘sir’?”

Derek faltered, his eyes going to Stiles who was chatting animatedly with Lydia. “Since…” Since he was more than his son’s roommate. It was that simple. The words just weren't coming. 

The Sheriff followed where Derek was looking, then looked at him before he chuckled to himself. “Something you want to tell me?”

Derek looked back at him, swallowing hard and knowing he must look like a deer caught in the headlights. He wasn’t used to feeling like prey, but with this man standing before him, that’s exactly what he felt like. Right up until the moment the Sheriff took pity on him.

Still looking toward his son and Lydia, cradling his beer, he smiled. “When he was born, he was this tiny little thing. Wouldn’t stop crying. He’d screw his face up and wave these tiny fists and go bright red as he screamed like the world was ending. Claudia and I didn’t get a full nights sleep for over a year. I didn’t care. He was my son and I just knew that I would love him, no matter what he did. All I’ve ever wanted in life was for him to be happy. I hoped that, one day, he’d meet someone who’d make him happy. And it’s not always gone that way for him. There’s been a lot of heartbreak there, and not everyone’s been able to see in him the good man that I see. But I always knew that Stiles would find them, eventually.” The Sheriff turned to Derek and looked him in the eye, unwavering. He downed the rest of his beer, before continuing. “That person? Whoever they may be? That person’s my family. Now, get me another beer, son.”

Derek smiled at the idea of Stiles being challenging since he was little. He was like that as an adult sometimes too. He took the empty beer from the older man and nodded. “I love him a lot, sir. I see it, just how great he is. And the kids are lucky to have you.” He smiled more, patting Evan’s head before going to get the Sheriff another beer. 

Derek got all of three feet away from the other man, when the Sheriff called out after him, “Hey, Hale!” Derek turned round to see the older man, pointing at him, his expression clearly trying to be firm, but breaking through with an amused grin. “I got my eye on you.” Derek held his gaze for a moment, then inclined his head and carried on walking. He’d allow the Sheriff his joke.

Unfortunately, though, it had been a pretty public one. He heard a squeal from across the yard and looked in time to see Lydia throw her arms around a laughing Stiles. That was two down then.

The squeal caught Scott’s attention and he canted his head towards Lydia and Stiles and wound up heading that way, dropping next to Stiles on the bench. “Why is she yelling?” he asked, but stopped, leaning in closer to Stiles, pulling at the neckline of his shirt. “What is...is that a bite mark?” The purpling mark on Stiles’s shoulder definitely looked like teeth marks. 

Stiles flushed bright red, pulling his shirt away from Scott and turning so the other guy couldn’t see the little love bite Derek had left. And he was going to have to talk to Derek about that. “Nothing.” 

Lydia burst into giggles, trying to move so she could see it too. “Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Okay it’s not nothing.” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“So it’s more than just serious feelings. It’s serious play time too.” Lydia looked thrilled and Stiles was sure she was already planning his wedding.

“Serious play time with who? The kids? That doesn’t look…Ohhhh.” Scott was so adorably dense sometimes. Stiles liked to think of him as the golden retriever of werewolves. “Who are you hooking up with?” 

Lydia was laughing and Stiles just stared at Scott in disbelief. Scott continued to look blankly until Stiles laughed and turned his head to point it at Derek. “The obvious answer.” 

Scott looked back and forth between Stiles and Derek for a few moments then beamed at Stiles. “Seriously? Man - _finally_! So, tell me - did you finally find the balls to say something, or did he get his head out of his ass?”

“No I’m joking. Of course seriously.” Stiles ran his hand over the bite on his shoulder, shrugging his shoulder. “And yes, finally.” He looked back over at Derek then shrugged. “A little of both. He figured he couldn’t live without me and I told him that I wasn’t going to let him jerk me around unless he was sure.” 

Scott’s brows lifted to his hairline. “He said he couldn’t live without you? Wow… that’s… Dramatic. Especially for Derek.”

“Okay, okay - it wasn’t in so many _words_ , but that was the implication. You know Derek, he’s really more about the actions than the words.”

“Which we can see from that simply fabulous hickey on your neck,” Lydia cut in with the world’s biggest grin.

“Right,” Scott added, with his whole ‘serious alpha’ expression, which Stiles always thought made him look a little constipated. “We should have a conversation about that. You really shouldn’t let him bite you.”

“Oh my god, stop!” Stiles exclaimed. “I’m not a complete moron! He doesn’t break the skin - he’s like… more attuned to that than I’ll ever be. He knows I don’t want it, and after Paige, he’s never gonna risk it anyway!”

“Who’s Paige?” Scott asked, looking at Lydia who just shook her head and shrugged. 

“Paige, Derek’s ex that died because she got bit,” Stiles said like both of them should have known that. They continued to stare at him, though Scott’s expression turned a little more sympathetic. “Alright, it’s a long story and I don’t want to tell it, but he knows. He’s careful. He wouldn’t do that to me. It’s just...fun. Oh my god I am so not talking about this with you two.” There were other bruises, but Stiles needed to make a point of not letting Lydia or Scott see any of those. That might yield more of these incredibly embarrassing conversations. 

Scott had that confused look again, but after a moment he shook his head. “What about the kids? What did they say?” 

“They knew. I mean, not knew, but Marcus was all cheeky, thinking he was funny when he caught us kissing in the kitchen and interrogated us, but Maribelle said ‘duh’ and demanded to be driven to school.” 

“I want to adopt that girl. You only need two, right?” Lydia said, tilting her head to the side and looking at Stiles, thoughtfully. 

“Firstly - no and have I mentioned _no_. Secondly, if you have a connection with any of my kids, it’s Evan,” Stiles told her, holding a finger to her face without actually turning to look at her.

“You’re no fun any more,” Lydia pouted.

“I’ll make you a deal - soon as she hits her teenage years, you can take her to the mall. I’m setting a credit limit though. And you get to tell her about sex and… the women’s stuff.”

“Stiles, you really need to learn to be able to say ‘tampons’ without blushing.”

“No, no I do not. I have you for that,” Stiles said, shuddering and shaking his head. “And Melissa if all else fails. Do you want the deal or not?” 

“Yes, I want the deal. I’m taking her out before then. But yes, when she needs a woman in her life, I’ll help you two out. Lord knows you need it. And you need a new shirt. Have you had this since high school?” 

“No! Well, yes - but it’s a great shirt. Expensive. Or, at least, reasonably priced. And - hey! I like this shirt! You’re not taking me shopping!”

“Yes I am. Saturday. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Trust me, Derek will thank me. Which means you’ll thank me. Scott’s taking the kids on Saturday night. Aren’t you Scott?”

“What? Who? Oh - right. Sure,” Scott said, sounding very much like he’d barely been following the conversation and was now trying to pretend otherwise.

Stiles looked at both of them feeling backed into a corner, but wound up sighing. “ _Fine_ ,” he said trying to sound exhausted by it, but in reality he wasn’t. He was just thinking he had the best friends ever. Especially with everyone being so great about everything. 

\-----

Evening drew in, but people didn’t seem to be in any real hurry to leave the cookout. Derek found Stiles sitting at the base of the old oak tree in the corner of the yard, facing away from everyone else.

“You okay?” he asked, sliding down the trunk to settle next to him.

Stiles lolled his head toward the other man, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Yeah. I’m good. Today’s been… Great, actually,” he said, with a lazy grin.

“So, how does it feel, finally being out? About us?”

Stiles gave Derek a look. “I was out long before you. With both things.” His interest in guys had wound up somewhere along the lines of common knowledge and most of their friends were aware of how he’d felt about Derek. “But it feels good. Feels good that you’re here. What about you?” 

Derek reached for Stiles’ hand, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t think anyone was surprised about how I felt about you, which is funny more than anything else.” 

“Funny?” 

“That I really am that much of an idiot. That everyone saw it before me. For years, I kept everything I felt locked up inside. All I allowed myself to feel was anger. The other emotions were too painful. That - that changed, along the way, but I was the last person to actually see that.”

Stiles shifted, twisting his body and pulling Derek against him, until he was cradling the other man. “Der, no - that… That wasn't about me. That was them. Marcus and Maribelle and Evan. I watched you. You hated the idea of them, when they first arrived. When Jennifer first left. They were everything you didn’t want, but never _not even for a minute_ did you let them know that. They were your family. You loved them, unconditionally, no matter what. Even when you had no idea what to do with that.”

“And that’s where you showed up,” Derek said, resting comfortably against Stiles. “You actually just showed up, walked in and took over. I should have guessed you’d weasel your way into more than just their hearts.” 

“I did no weaseling!” Stiles sounded shocked though Derek knew he was teasing. He leaned back enough to nudge against Stiles’ cheek with his nose, breathing him in deeply. “Okay maybe a little weaseling,” Stiles murmured, voice lower and rougher. 

“I’m not upset about it. That was probably the only way you were going to get in close to me.” Derek pressed a kiss against his jaw, teeth grazing lightly. “I’m glad you did.” 

“You needed help. And they needed proper parenting,” Stiles said, tilting his head back to give Derek better access.

“Mmm, and Stiles Stilinski was the obvious choice for that,” Derek agreed, taking what was offered, raking blunt teeth along Stiles’ pale skin.

“I did it for them first. You were just like… the bonus prize,” Stiles told him, with a sigh, trying to keep quiet, aware that there were others not that far away.

“Bonus prize, nice.” Derek worked further down Stiles’ neck, liking that sigh but not pushing too far. “You were still the last person I expected to show up. To get under my skin.” He hadn’t wanted ever anyone like he wanted Stiles because it went deeper than his mouth on Stiles’ skin. It had to do with being close to Stiles, with listening to him, hearing him, learning more about him. 

“The last person, really? So… you would have preferred Scott? Or maybe Lydia?” Stiles teased, to Derek’s obvious horror.

“God, no - I just… I didn’t expect _you_ , okay? To be like… you. I hated you - when we first met. You were this obnoxious, cocky, fearless little shit of a boy. High on the fact that his dad was the Sheriff and sure that he was the smartest guy in a ten mile radius.”

“Who is still the smartest guy in a ten mile radius,” Stiles added, even if his smile was softer, obviously affected by what Derek was saying. 

Derek leaned in and kissed him, adding, “I never expected that everything I hated about you would become something I loved about you. I never expected to realise that you were the kindness, most selfless, most giving guy I had ever met.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t like you much either. You were a dick. And prone to hitting or slashing at things instead of asking for help. I didn’t expect you to be all soft and cuddly inside that and like quiet films and reading.” He laughed a little to himself kissing Derek lightly. “And I’m not the most selfless or giving, because there’s you. And you’ve got me beat.” 

“I was a dick,” Derek agreed, happy to give him that, even as he kept quiet on the rest. There were reasons for how had behaved when they’d first met, sure, but the facts were the facts. He had been a dick. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”

“Then you should probably thank your gym membership,” Stiles joked, running a hand up under Derek’s shirt.

“...I don’t have a gym membership…”

“Oh my god, Derek - just go with it?!?”

“How am I supposed to go with it when I know you’re full of shit? You don’t just like me for my looks. That’s like me saying the same thing and you wouldn’t believe me either.” But he did like Stiles’ hand there, reaching up to catch it and and press it against his chest. 

“Right. See, no one would believe you that you’re with me for my looks, while half the world wants you for yours. Your argument is completely invalid.” Stiles rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. 

“You’re biased,” Derek countered.

“Biased, yes, but in this case also entirely correct. I’m not trying to put myself down, but... you’re the most physically gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. There are Grecian statues that are less perfect than you. Michelangelo would weep if you took your shirt off before him…”

“Okay, okay, I get it - you think I’m hot,” Derek said, actually blushing.

“And then some,” Stiles confirmed. “And you're all mine. Which I figure pretty much makes me the luckiest guy alive.”

“I would say the same thing,” Derek said, bumping his nose against Stiles’ cheek again. “But yes, all yours. There’s not another soul I want to be this close to. And I think you’re hot.” 

Stiles grinned, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “You do?” 

“Yes, I do. You _are_ the model that artists made the statues for. Lean, lithe, perfectly cut and put together.” Derek pulled back to look at Stiles’ face, loving every freckle. 

Stiles leaned in, dropping his head to Derek’s shoulder with a bashful, half-laughing grin as he looked up into the other man’s face. They didn’t need to say anything more as Derek slipped an arm round Stiles’ waist and they relaxed back against the tree. It was perfect, warm and comfortable - the sounds of children playing floating across the evening air. Children that would find them, sooner or later, and drag them back into the thick of their friends and family. Just... not quite yet. Just now, it was the two of them, finally having found each other.


	7. Epilogue

Christmas came around once again. There was a chill in the air and the scent of pine needles and excited children hung over the living room as Derek joined his boyfriend on the couch.

“They asleep?” Stiles asked, shifting to wrap himself around Derek’s torso like some cross between a blanket and an octopus.

“Yeah, all asleep,” Derek told him, leaning back into the hold. “But… Marcus told me that he knew Santa didn’t exist,” he added, sounding a little lost.

“Did he? Damn those kids in his class,” Stiles said with a shake of his head and his trademark eye roll. “Though I can’t talk. I figured it out by his age too.” Not for the best of reasons. Christmas had lacked its luster in the wake of his mother’s death and a young Stiles had let his father off the hook for proper Santa things. They still did Christmas, just a very different version.

“So I shouldn’t be sad that he figured it out?”

“No, you can be sad, but we need to lecture him on not telling Mari or Ev so they can still have the fun.” Stiles snuggled in closer for a moment before untangling himself and jumping up towards the tree. “Do you want your gifts now?”

Derek shook off the sad feeling caused by the idea that his babies were growing up. Marcus would be a teenager soon enough, and then they’d had a whole new bag of issues to deal with. He was already showing some of the signs of impending teenager-dom. He and Stiles between them were geared up for dealing with that though. With the amount that they had both been through, individually and together, they doubted there was much new that could be thrown at them. Stiles’ gifts, however, possibly were a different story. Derek looked a little nervous as Stiles settled down under the tree. “Have you bought half the mall again, like last year?” he asked, tentatively.

“No... Just a few things that I thought that you’d like,” Stiles said, starting to pull presents out from beneath the tree and stacking them up.

“...Here we go again...” Derek murmured, reaching for the first.

It was exactly like last year, Derek decided, as he reached the last present. A whole lot of thoughtfully chosen, yet ultimately ridiculous presents. The only real difference was that this time he was expecting it, and so took the whole thing with far more grace, laughing and joking with every single one. At least, he was laughing and joking. Stiles, on the other hand, appeared to have got steadily quieter as time went on.

By the time Derek had gotten to the last box, Stiles had one knee pulled up to his chest, nervously chewing on his fingers, not quite making eye contact. Derek half watched the other man and half watched the present he was opening, more worried about Stiles than what was in the box in his lap. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Great. Awesome. Go on, open it.” Stiles dropped his defensive pose, probably a habit he’d picked up years ago as a way of covering his nervous ticks and convincing everyone around him he was fine when he wasn’t. Derek watched him for a moment longer then went back to unwrapping the present. Inside were two things. The first, a well made photo book, with their Christmas card photo from the previous year on the cover. Inside was all the photos Stiles had taken over the year - the kids, them, all of them together, their friends and family. It was beautiful, something he must have ordered, but obviously put some thought into. “This is great Stiles,” he said softly shifting through the pages reverently. Stiles just nodded, eyes still on the box in Derek’s lap.

Derek went back to the second part of the gift, another smaller box and the moment he picked it up he heard Stiles’ heart rate jump up. Derek eyed his boyfriend for a moment before opening the box to find a plain ring inside. Now it was his turn to hear his heart hammering in his ears, turning to look at Stiles who was chewing on his lip nervously.

“It’s not... I mean I thought, since we’re together, and we’re planning on not being with anyone else, I thought it’s okay to buy you something like that. I mean, I’m not trying to say we should or whatever, but it’s not like I want to be with anyone else, we have kids together, but I don’t know if you want to. Or would want to? We haven’t talked about it. So it’s not really a thing. It could be, but it doesn’t have to be. And I thought, you know if you wanted, you could wear it or something...And...”

Derek had no idea that emotions could rollercoaster quite that much, just by listening to Stiles babble on about things. There were the highs as he listened to Stiles talk about their children, about always being together, about never wanting to be with anyone else. There were also lows - as he also talked about it not being a thing, and about it not having to mean anything. In the end, Derek just stared silently at Stiles, holding the opened box between them, not daring to touch the ring at all as he tried to sort through everything the other man had said to try and work out what Stiles actually wanted from this. In the end, he gave up, so unsure how he was meant to take any of that and still not daring to believe that maybe it was actually just what he really wanted it to be. “I want to wear it,” he said, quietly, dropping his eyes to the ring.

“You do?” Stiles sounded shocked even if that was the obvious purpose of the gift. “I mean, yes you should. I want you to.” He all but lunged for the little box, pulling the ring out and handing it to Derek. “I was...I mean I was hoping you might. It’s not...you didn’t have to. I’d understand. If it was too much or I’m just insane or something. But you want to. So...that’s good.” He’d gone back to chewing on the fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding the ring out to Derek.

Derek’s heart was hammering, loud in his ears, and he still had no idea how to feel. Stiles really wasn’t making this any easier either, clearly far too nervous to make sense of anything. Taking the ring, Derek hesitated once again. “Which...” he pushed his hands a little more toward Stiles, willing him to actually get the message. He thought, maybe, the other man did, from the way that Stiles’ eyes widened as though Derek were pointing a gun at him.

“Whichever you want,” Stiles managed.

Derek let out a growl of frustration. He didn’t know what Stiles wanted and if the other man thought just a ring was too much, then Derek wasn’t going to put everything on the line and admit to what _he_ wanted.

Stiles’ shoulders sank. “Don’t make that noise. You don’t have to take it. I just thought...if you wanted. We could...”

“Could what?” Derek pressed, still not putting the ring on.

Stiles went back to chewing on the side of his finger, looking up at Derek through scrunched eyebrows, his expression tight and unsure. Abruptly he stopped, pulling his hand away from his mouth, clenching his fingers into a fist. It appeared to Derek that his boyfriend was trying to force himself to come to some kind of a conclusion, or - more hopefully - trying to get up the nerve to do something. Derek didn’t dare interrupted, waiting with a quiet patience for Stiles to work through whatever he needed to.

It seemed to take an age, but then Stiles ticked his eyes up to meet Derek’s gaze. When he spoke, he sounded calm, serious, all vestiges of the former panic gone, though Derek could hear that his heart was still racing. “We could make things more official.” Derek couldn’t speak. He needed to hear the other man actually say it. Stiles had put him through enough uncertainty in the last five minutes that he wasn’t intending to second guess anything. He raised his brows slightly, tentatively, signaling his need for something more.

Now it was Stiles’ turn to make a frustrated noise, blushing, but obviously trying to determine the words. “It’s legal now. I mean it has been for a while, but we could...” He faltered for a moment, struggling with what came next. “We could get married. Sign all the paperwork, I could adopt the kids, make everything official so you never have to yell at another attending nurse ever again.”

Derek closed the gap between them in an instant, capturing Stiles’ mouth in a kiss, even as he slid the ring onto his finger. Stiles let out noise that he would later deny was a squeak as the two tumbled backwards until the younger man was lying prone on the floor. It was then that Derek abruptly jerked upwards and rolled toward the tree. Grabbing a box from under it, he thrust it at Stiles, who was looking at him like he was crazy.

“Open it,” Derek demanded.

“I… take that as a yes then?” Stiles asked him, taking the box from him.

“Yes, yes - it’s a yes, now open it!”

“Can’t we enjoy the yes? I mean, I’ve never asked someone to marry me before.” Although he had done it poorly, that was the intention.

“Just open the box Stiles.” Derek was getting demanding, but at the same time he was moving closer, hands on Stiles’ sides as the other man sat up open the box. Inside it was a binder, blank on the outside, with no indicator of what was inside. Opening the cover he found a picture of a woman, dark hair, striking eyes, and her personal information. Name, likes, interests, job information, grades. Stiles flipped to the next page to spot another woman like the first. Frowning he flipped through a few more, eight in total, ending with Lydia. Lydia of all people. “Is this a list of previous sexual partners?” he asked frowning more.

“I have not slept with Lydia,” Derek pointed out, darkly.

Stiles lifted his eyes from the page, though he didn’t put the book down. “Good, because… that’d be a really shitty thing to demand I find out when I’ve just proposed to you and you’re not even letting me bask. So… what’s with the seven women and Lydia?”

“There’s something else in the box,” Derek pushed, gesturing impatiently as Stiles continued to look at him as though he were crazy. Still, younger man looked into the bottom of the box and pulled out a plain, brown, manilla envelope.

“Okay - so… I officially have no idea what’s going on here,” Stiles said, but he ran his finger under the flap when Derek raised his brows in encouragement. 

“Oh.” Stiles’ eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he scanned the letter’s contents. “Wow. I mean… I found her. I have her address and everything, I just… There was no way that I was going to go banging on her door, insisting that she sign all rights over her children. You… Clearly didn’t have the same issues with that.”

“She all but left them on my doorstep, half a step from leaving them outside a damn fire station, so no, I had no issues. Legally, they’re just mine. Well they will be when I file that paperwork.”

“So then, they’re ours, I mean yours. Until you know,” Stiles gestured towards Derek’s hand. “Then ours.” He looked back at the binder with the women, picking it up. “What is this?”

“They’re ours when you adopt them. That’s what I wanted - when I tracked her down. Her giving up her rights means you can formally claim yours. I was going to ask you tonight. Before you beat me to it. I’ve already talked to Marcus and Maribelle about it. They - well, the hardest part has been getting them to keep it a secret. They were pretty much the most excited I’ve ever seen them, that they’d be getting you officially as their other dad.”

“I’ve already done all the paperwork,” Stiles blurted. “I have it saved. It’s upstairs - I just have to print it out. I… I hoped you’d want to.”

“I want to,” Derek said, with a grin.

“I got that part - now tell me about the damn binder!” Stiles exclaimed, and Derek laughed at his impatience.

“They’re growing up so fast.”

“Derek!” Stiles protested, gesturing to the book.

“Hush - I’m getting there. They’re growing up fast. And we have that spare room… You’ve mentioned before that…“ Now it was Derek’s turn to not really know how to ask. “That maybe you’d like another.”

Stiles looked down at the book then back up at Derek. “Um. I’m not sure how this goes with that. I mean do. If you thought we could handle it. Four’s a lot, but yeah, the room is free and Ev’s getting big now but…” He looked at the book again. “I’m confused.”

“They all look like me,” Derek told him, shifting to kneel next to Stiles and flipping through the pages, pointing out the dark hair and the colouring of each of the women. “Well, aside from Lydia, but she kinda insisted in putting herself in this, and since she was pretty much doing all the organization and vetting for me…”

“Vetting and organization of _what_ , Der?” Stiles pressed, still sounding entirely clueless.

“Of surrogates,” Derek told him.

“Wait, but…” Stiles gaped at him, then looked back at the file, flipping through it again.

“I want us to have a child - and I want it to be yours.”

“But… I… Lydia’s willing to have my baby? Oh my god - that’s something I never ever thought I’d actually say!” Stiles made a face that looked like hell had frozen over. “I mean it’s awesome. It would figure she’d wait until I was engaged to a guy for her to be okay with me knocking her up,” he said shaking his head. He looked at Derek seriously. “It doesn't have to be mine. That’s not necessary. Yes, I want another, but we could just adopt or something. We don’t have to go through all this.” Stiles had an expression that said he wasn’t sure what ‘all this’ would entail anyway.

Derek’s face fell, but he nodded, reaching to take the file back. “Okay, it… It was a dumb idea,” he said, not meeting Stiles’ eyes. He’d had it all planned, but he wasn’t going to try and force Stiles into anything he didn’t want. “We can look into adoption agencies after the holidays.” 

“No, no, no. You don’t get to go sad puppy on me,” Stiles said, holding the book out of Derek's reach. “I didn’t expect it. You wanting another one let alone...mine. I’m just...I don’t want you to think I need that. I love our kids even if they’re not blood, but if you really want to pass my meager genetic traits down, then yes, tell me what I have to do and help me pick out a hot chick to knock up.”

“Not meager,” Derek corrected, looking up at Stiles with such love and hope and burgeoning joy that maybe this was actually going to happen. “Never meager. I know you don’t need it. Any more than I need M and M to actually be mine to love them as if they were. Maybe I’m selfish, but ever since I first started thinking about it - I just… I want a little boy, or a little girl, who looks like both of us, but if I can’t have that, then I want one that looks like you. I want us to be there, right from the start. Do the whole thing, together. All of it.”

“In fifteen years when Evan has five girlfriends who don’t care because he’s got your genes and whoever this new one is has none and bounces too much, you will take that back,” Stiles said but he was pulling Derek closer, kissing him again. “If you keep talking like that I’m going to wish you could knock me up, just to give you that.” He wrapped his arms around Derek, pulling him in closer. “But okay. From the beginning. You and me. I love the idea.”

“I will never take that back. And we are going to teach our son better than that. If I find out he has five anyones at once, they might not care, but I will. Even if I am distracted by my overly bouncy younger son or daughter." 

“I love that you said anyones,” Stiles murmured, pressing a kiss against Derek’s cheek.

So, you want to look through these again?” Derek asked, shifting himself to sit behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around the other man, pulling the folder into his lap.

“Now I know what it’s for?”

“Uhuh,” Derek said, kissing up the back of Stiles’ neck. “Now you know what it’s for.”

Stiles made a soft noise at the kisses, arching his neck to give Derek more purchase. “When you do that I think no, but yes. Let’s do it. Probably no to Lydia though. Just saying. I love her, I do, she’s my best friend that’s not you or Scott, but that’s weird. I can’t do it. It looks like some high school romance gone so, so wrong. Will she kill us if we don’t pick her?” Though Lydia did have brains he wanted their baby to have. “Who’s the smartest other one? Let’s pick her. Marc’s tough and athletic, Mari’s graceful, Ev’s gonna be handsome. We need a nerd.”

“No Lydia,” Derek agreed, lips moving against Stiles’ skin. “If she has a problem with that, I’m sure I can take her. As for the others - they’re all smart. She’s already interviewed all of them. Each one bears the Lydia Martin seal of approval. You know, your friend can be scary-protective. And that’s saying something, coming from me.”

“She wouldn’t ever admit it, but I think she liked that I was in love with her for years. Hurting me would be like hurting her pet ferret or something.” Stiles flipped through the pages, trying to pay attention as Derek kissed him. “I dunno. Do we go with someone who’s, like, coordinated and try and balance me out, or just the prettiest girl. How did you find so many women that look like you?”

“Apparently, dark hair and greenish eyes are pretty common, but I think looks can be overrated,” Derek said, resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder so he could look down at the pages as well. “He or she would probably thank us if they weren't quite so much of the klutz you can be,” he teased lightly.

“Nothing about you is common, but if you think looks are overrated that explains you being with me,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. “I also want to challenge that, but I can’t. I‘m a klutz. I can’t help it. Maybe we should balance it out.”

Derek leaned back slightly, pulling Siles with him so that he was cradling the other man against his chest. “Okay, new rule,” he said, resting his head on Stiles’ shoulder and nuzzling against his cheek.

“Hmm?” Stiles asked, closing his eyes, the question half lost in a hum of pleasure.

"”You're gonna stop playing this out like this is some kind of beauty and the beast scenario. You’re gorgeous - and not just on the inside,” Derek said, kissing his way along the little line of moles that ran along Stiles’ left cheek to under his ear, which he’d developed something of an obsession with. “I love you. I think looks are overrated because I’ve known some good looking people who are evil on the inside, but you - I love every part of you. And that definitely includes thinking ‘holy shit, this is my guy?’ every morning when I wake up and see you lying there.” He smiled against Stiles’ neck. “Course... That's before you wake up and usually half fall out of bed. Klutz,” he teased.

Stiles let the book fall somewhere near the couch then turned in Derek’s arms, shifting so he was in his lap. “I wake up to you _staring_ at me. It's terrifying,” he teased back, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and sifting his fingers through his hair. “But fine. I am thrilled that you’ve been fully brainwashed despite my being a klutz.” He kissed Derek hard, pressing closer to him. “Now. Help me put Santa gifts under the tree and take me to bed because otherwise we're going to do this here and we shouldn’t, no matter how romantic it is.”

Derek pulled his fiancé closer, revelling in being able to think of him like that as they kissed. “I want to get you a ring,” he said, resting his forehead against Stiles’.

“Sure, big guy,” Stiles said, faking indulgence, though clearly thrilled at the idea. The two men broke apart, peeling themselves away to deal with the presents with some reluctance. “Just... Not tomorrow? Okay? Let’s have a Christmas this year where you don’t spend the whole time shopping.”

Derek shot Stiles a playful glare. “Not my fault that, no matter how much I think I’ve found the perfect present, you always manage to outdo me.”

Stiles reached for Derek, pulling him back closer and leaning up the tiny height difference to kiss him. “It was only fitting to ask you now. It’s Christmas. It was the first time I realized you could love me back,” he said softly. “It was when I realized it wasn’t just me, even though I was sure it was in my head.”

They had already discussed the fact that Derek couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he'd fallen in love with Stiles. Derek knew exactly when he had realised that he was already in love with Stiles, but at that point, it had felt like something that had been around for a while. “You're so much smarter than I am. So much more aware,” Derek said, as Stiles preened under the compliments.

“I am, but it was also a lot of wishful thinking.” Stiles pulled him in closer again, kissing him hard, presents forgotten for the moment.

“What did you hang your wishes on?”

Stiles pulled away, going back to putting the presents under the tree while he thought. “You stopped treating me like the nanny. I mean...less like someone who you were living with who was helping and more like someone you were in this with. Then Christmas Eve, the whole moment you set up. It seemed like so much more than just us. Like there was more to us.”

Derek handed Stiles the last couple of presents to position as he said, “At the time, I didn’t mean it like that. It was just that it was Christmas, and I thought we deserved something special. Something not just about the kids. You know I never really thought of you as the nanny, right?” Derek chuckled to himself. “Hell, I remember the night I chose this place - when Scott hauled you out of here. _That’s_ when I realised that it wasn’t just that I couldn’t do this without you. I didn’t _want_ to do this without you.”

“So you decided to ask me to move in by leaving me a dumb note,” Stiles reminded him, amusement playing over his face for a moment, then he leveled a look at Derek, staring him down. “I fell in love with that stupid note.”

“It was two lines, Stiles,”

“Well yeah, but it was two lines that moved me from being that annoying dude that shows up in your loft and makes lunches or babysits Evan to being part of the family.”

“You know I’m not always good with words.”

“Try ‘hardly ever’.”

“Hey - at least I didn’t try and make a _proposal_ into a confusing mess of babbled phrases and backtracking!”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to!” Stiles said throwing his arms up a little. “I mean...we just started dating. I just know I don’t want to date anyone else, but for all I know you hate the institution of marriage or it was too soon and...” He trailed off, feeling himself start to babble again.

Derek looked down at his left hand, twisting the ring with the pad of his thumb. He was silent for the longest time, the only noise in the room that of Stiles finishing up setting the presents. Finally he said, “We don’t have to. If you’re not sure. I’d rather wait, or not-” Derek looked up at Stiles. “-if you’re not entirely sure. There’s a big gap between just not wanting to date anyone else, and actually wanting to get married. I don’t want to force you into anything, just because that’s what I want. I can... not. We can just carry on as we are. It’s - really, it’s just a piece of paper,” he said, though he knew he didn’t believe that. It meant so much more to him than that.

“What? No. Shut up. I asked. you don’t get to take it back.You said yes. I want to. Why would I not! I wasn’t sure _you_ would want to.” Stiles wrapped his arms around the other man, who seemed so vulnerable in the moment.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” Derek confessed. “A home. A family. To be someone’s husband. To not be alone anymore. When I opened that box and saw that ring, it was yes before you’d even opened your mouth - and then you were going on about how it didn’t need to mean anything and... Never doubt that I want this.”

“Well good news sourwolf, you’ve finally got it all. No more grumpy faces.” Stiles grinned, though there was an edge of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a good job. I should have waited on you to do it.”

“Oh no. No way. Anyway, this will be a story to tell our grandchildren. How their grandpa managed to pull of the worst. proposal. ever,” Derek teased, kissing Stiles on his forehead, the end of his nose and then finally on his mouth to highlight his words.

“Whatever. I’m still going to be the favorite granddad anyway,” Stiles said, pulling back after the kiss, but keeping hold of Derek’s hand as he stepped back towards the stairs. “Let’s go celebrate my terrible proposal.”

“Unforgettable proposal,” Derek corrected.

Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling Derek close to kiss him again. “Fair enough. And tomorrow, we’ll pick out who has our baby.”

“...Think your dad would keep the kids tomorrow night?” Derek asked, somewhat desperately, as he all but dragged Stiles up the stairs.

“Christmas night? Maybe. We might have to wait another day. Definitely on New Year’s. He already has a plan. Though we are going to Lydia’s party and I’m kissing you in a room full of super couples at midnight.” Stiles kept talking despite the fact that he was stumbling after Derek. “Though if you look at him like that when you ask he might. Or he might shoot you for doing terrible things to his son.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Derek pressed Stiles against the wall. “I told him we were dating and he called me son and welcomed me to the family,” he said, his hands roaming over Stiles’ body, head dropping to run his teeth along the other man’s neck. “Your dad likes me. You tell him you proposed and I bet he’ll practically send us on honeymoon right here and now. He’ll keep the kids. We’ll find the right woman. Then I’ll take you to Lydia’s and show everyone exactly who we belong to.”

Stiles had to swallow a groan considering they were in the hallway, but he was nodding eagerly. “Okay. Fair. Oh god, we get a real honeymoon.” Someone would get the kids for a week and they’d just go be them. Somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe back to that cabin. He shivered under Derek’s attention, but managed to pull away some, if only so they didn’t do this in the hallway.

“We do,” Derek agreed, pulling Stiles sharply back to him. His eyes flashed bright blue for a moment as he bodily picked up the other man, wrapping his arms around his waist and carrying him toward the bedroom. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We’ll go away, just us. I wanna show you the world. Show you everything,” he whispered, harshly, as he shouldered his way into their room and kicked the door closed behind them.

Stiles swatted at Derek as Derek picked him up, but didn’t fight it more than that. As much as it was cheating, it was amazing and that look meant Derek had one thing in mind and Stiles was completely for it. “Trust me. You’ve shown me the world in this room alone,” Stiles countered, just like he was sure Derek was going to now. Being with Derek tilted everything one way, then another, until Stiles couldn’t think of anything but the other man. And it was heaven.


End file.
